


A Place Like Me in a Girl Like This

by Heart_Seoul_Soshi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 76,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10134722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_Seoul_Soshi/pseuds/Heart_Seoul_Soshi
Summary: The modern day "The Mummy" AU literally no one asked for but on a soul-deep level we all truly, truly deserve.





	1. Books, Bullets, and Black Magic

**Author's Note:**

> John Hannah's very existence in the world has given its blessing to this fic

_"Khufu. Khafre. Menkaure. The great Pharaohs of the ancient world, their sacred monuments reach high into the heavens and have stood watch over the sands of Giza for thousands of years. But just like the mighty faces of the pyramids, there is a darker side to the three Pharaohs' legendary legacy._

_"Djedefre, Khawab, brothers of Khufu. Only one was the rightful heir to the throne in the wake of Khufu's death, yet one would stop at nothing to seize the power and position he so greatly coveted. A knife to the back in the dead of night, the spilling of Khawab's blood, and Djedefre claimed the throne, ushering in a cruel and violent reign over the lands of Egypt._

_"Pharaoh's priests, loyal to the true line of Khufu and his son Khafre, vowed to restore order to Egypt by sacrificing their afterlives and dooming themselves to eternal damnation in the Underworld...for their coming murder of the Pharaoh would not be taken lightly by the gods._

_"Djedefre fell at the hands of the priests, who condemned Pharaoh's afterlife as well with the darkest and mightiest of all curses, so powerful and deadly that the priests trembled in terror as the words of the curse passed through their lips. The curse trapped his spirit, and a sealed sarcophagus trapped his body, forever locking Djedefre in limbo and barring him from ever reaching the afterlife._

_"In spite of Djedefre's cruelty and horrors as King, Pharaoh's sacred bodyguards were bound by honor and duty to punish his murderers, mummifying the priests alive. But the deed had been done, the monster king slain. Khafre ascended to the throne, restoring peace and prosperity to the land after the downfall of his uncle. He decreed that Djedefre's bodyguards and their descendants were to for all eternity watch over his resting place, for trapped between our world and the next, Khafre feared he would one day rise again—a plague upon the earth, the ravaging bane of the human race. A true monster come to life with the unholy magics of the undead, power over the very elements, and the boon of immortality lifting him from the grave to seal the bloody fate of mankind and the world as we know it!"_

A bell rang. Hands clapped. Cheers resounded.

Standing by the door, Professor Jemma Simmons rolled her eyes before leaving her post and crossing to the front of the classroom.

"Thank you, Fitz, very entertaining, but as we all know I teach a history class, not mythology."

Leo Fitz ignored her, moving beside the podium and taking bows as Jemma's students clapped for him. The applause soon died down and was replaced with backpacks unzipping, books closing, papers rustling; the telltale sounds of a class packing up to leave.

En masse the students began to stand and shuffle to the door, and some of the cheerers stopped by Fitz before they left. Several were familiar faces to him, and they shook his hand, patted his shoulder, thanked him for dropping by to end the day with a story.

"You see? 'Story'," Jemma pointedly said when the room had cleared out, moving to sit at her desk.

"Yes, story. I never claimed it was anything but," Fitz stood behind the podium again, idly leaning on top of it and staring out among the empty students' desks. "They like when I tell my stories."

"Are you saying my lectures are boring?"

"I'm saying that a culture's mythos is just as important to its history as facts and dates."

Jemma opened up her laptop and pulled some papers in front of her, pen scribbling away in one hand and the other hand typing up a storm. Fitz frowned and briefly glanced over at her when he heard the clicking of the keyboard, never quite understanding how she was able to write and type at the same time like that.

"Mythos _based_ on facts and dates, perhaps, but not whatever fairytale nonsense you just spouted," Jemma laughed. "Djedefre was Khufu's son, not brother, and certainly no murderer or monster. There's no locked sarcophagus with a cursed mummy buried under the sand somewhere, Djedefre's resting place is in Abu Rawash."

"According to some texts," Fitz teased.

"According to _the_ texts. When my students fail their next test on pharaonic lineage I'll point them in your direction."

"Point them in my direction! I'll gladly take a few kids under my wing," Fitz stood up straight and started to absentmindedly pace around the podium. "It'll do them good to try their hand at fieldwork."

Jemma looked up from her papers.

"Fieldwork?" she repeated in disbelief. "Fitz, I've told you, you're not a proper archaeologist. You're a glorified treasure seeker at best."

"Oh, I'm every bit the archaeologist you are. Just more freelance in my approach, that's all."

"Freelance isn't quite so good at paying the bills, Fitz," Jemma explained.

"That's what my job in the library is for."

"Speaking of, why aren't you there?"

"My work day is over, Jemma. I'm waiting on you. Lunch, remember?"

The professor gave a startled gasp.

"Oh good lord, I completely forgot," she said, hurrying to save everything on her laptop and organize her papers off to the side.

"You forget to eat, you forget to sleep. I wouldn't be surprised if I caught you forgetting to breathe. It's no wonder your mum and dad asked me to keep an eye on you after you got this job."

Jemma shrugged and smiled.

"I enjoy my work, that's all. I'm the youngest professor at the university and I have a lot to do."

She rose from her desk and slung her work bag over her shoulder, ready to head off to lunch.

"I think you need to get out of the classroom more," Fitz opened the door, clicked off the lights, and they went out into the hall. "I haven't seen _you_ doing much fieldwork lately."

He led the way down the bustling halls of the university's Egyptology department, where crowds of students were moving from class to class or leaving the building for lunch as well.

"Yes, regrettably, I haven't found the time for it recently," Jemma's face fell, showing the unfortunate fact truly was regrettable to her.

She hadn't been lying, she loved her work. As both an archaeologist and a professor of Egyptology, with her best friend often working at her side, she was very much living her dream. She and Fitz had known each other since childhood, practically growing up together as Fitz's difficult home life often sent him running to the open and welcoming arms of the Simmons' household. Jemma's mother and father treated him like a son, and as the years passed Jemma's lifelong interest in all things Ancient Egypt eventually drew Fitz in as well. From elementary school to middle school, high school to the University of Cambridge, they were together (even when Jemma was given the chance to graduate two years early, she ended up staying the full college term so as not to abandon Fitz).

No matter where they went they often wound up affectionately nicknamed "Fitzsimmons" by everyone around them, a tradition that continued even after they crossed three thousand miles from England to Egypt, Jemma taking on her job as a history professor at Cairo University and Fitz working as a university librarian, both heading to the sands on digs and excavations when the opportunity arose (Fitz more so than Simmons nowadays, as he so aptly pointed out).

They'd been in Egypt long enough to be used to the weather not feeling like the right sort of weather, and the blazing sun and clear skies certainly didn't feel like the middle of February. Fitz's car waited in the school's parking lot, and he opened the passenger side for Jemma before jogging around and getting behind the wheel.

"What's today? Thursday? You don't have anymore classes after lunch, right?" he asked, starting up the car.

"It's Wednesday, and I have one more class," Jemma corrected, rolling her window down. "And you're stopping by the flat tonight to help me grade essays."

"I am? ?"

"You are."

Fitz sighed.

"Yes, Professor Simmons."

* * *

 

Reflexes launched her behind a wide pillar as the bullets started flying, but she missed the safety of cover and went spiraling down a hill, sand dirtying her clothes and hair before she fell hard at the base of the little dune.

["Skye, talk to me. What's going on there?"] the voice in her ear crackled, and she was honestly surprised she was getting any kind of a signal at all this far into the middle of the desert.

"You remember the good old days when grave robbing was just a shovel and a lantern?" she asked aloud, breathing heavily.

["Meaning?"]

Skye went quiet, letting her earpiece pick up the sounds of the firefight taking place above her on the sand dune.

"Meaning if these were the good old days you wouldn't be hearing _that_ right now," she responded, jumping to her feet but keeping herself crouched down a bit.

["They're armed? That can't be possible. They come from a poor town of Libyan farmers, if they had the money for weapons they wouldn't be grave-robbing in the first place."]

A single shot rang out distinctively against the rest, followed by an equally distinctive scream.

"Tell that to Blake, who I'm pretty sure just got shot in the ass. Again," Skye flatly muttered.

["Take the team and back out, we'll track their movements and go after them again better prepared."]

"May, I got this. I'm not the type to bring a knife to a gunfight."

["You didn't know there was going to be a gunfight."]

"No, but one of my foster homes had a son who was a Boy Scout. I'm always prepared."

She switched off her earpiece, grabbed a gun out of her holster, and was about to charge back up the dune when a second body followed in her footsteps and came rolling down the hill, screaming and flailing and landing in a crumpled heap at her feet.

"Radcliffe!" she hissed, recognizing her teammate. "What does 'stay by the camels' mean to you?"

"I can't very well stay by the camels with graverobbers firing bullets at me, can I?" Radcliffe yelled, exasperated and fumbling on the sand as he tried to get to his feet.

"Talk louder, why don't you? I'm sure they could use help finding us!" Skye snapped, clicking the safety off on her gun. "You Brits will be the death of me."

"Scottish, actually," Radcliffe defensively said, finally managing to stand.

"Yeah, that too," Skye half-listened and pulled another gun out of her other holster, shoving it into Radcliffe's hands. "Stay behind me."

Weapons at the ready, the pair stealthily climbed back up the dune, keeping their heads low as they came closer and closer to the crest. Skye knelt down and peeked over the top, seeing the ancient ruins above turned into a battlefield, her team of fighters versus the tomb raiders they were trying to stop. Then the ground rumbled, the sand shifted, and the eyes of both Skye and her partner were pulled to the west. A new wave of tomb raiders was coming in—on horseback. Skye's team was just getting more and more screwed by the second.

"Bloody hell," Radcliffe breathed, watching the riders race ever closer, guns blazing.

Skye and her team were vigilantes, part of an underground organization led by one Melinda May and dedicated to protecting Egypt's treasures and history from waves upon waves of gang-like tomb raiders, an epidemic that had started sweeping across the nation a little over three years ago with a sudden surge in brand new Egyptian discoveries. They were guided by heroic notions but employed less-than-heroic tactics, and while the country's officials saw them as little more than criminals themselves, refusing to name them and give them recognition, Melinda May had given them a name right from the very beginning—"Shield".

This particular handful of Shield members had gone into the mission expecting to drive off a group of impoverished farmers looking to pillage a forgotten ruin near the Valley of the Queens, not to find a much larger wave of heavily-armed raiders charging in on horseback, spraying bullets at their feet. Most of Skye's team came equipped with their standard "just in case" handguns and revolvers, but it was nowhere near the firepower needed to give the surprised group the advantage.

"We fall back, yes? Tell me we fall back," Radcliffe practically whimpered. He was a pillar of courage, that one.

In response, Skye gave her other gun to Radcliffe, dual arming him.

"You help hold them off," she said. "I'm gonna charge in."

"On what, a bloody camel? ?"

"No. I brought my horse, remember?"

Skye winked and disappeared, sliding back down the sand dune and vanishing around the base.

Albeit reluctantly, Radcliffe followed orders, and ran into battle.

Shield members fought all around him, firing from the cover of broken stone and ruined walls, leaping at raiders to knock them into the sand and commandeer their weapons. Radcliffe ducked behind an obelisk, shooting at the graverobbers and managing to catch an unsuspecting few in the face with the butt of his gun when they came running past. Despite their disadvantage, it was clear that Shield was somehow on the winning side, just barely, but the fresh wave of horses were still running up on them, and the tide would turn when they hit the battlefield.

The horses came closer. Two teammates fell to the sand in injury. Closer still. A new barrage of bullets shot through the air. Even closer. Shield members started to retreat, hunkering behind whatever stone of the exposed ruins they could find. The tide was seconds away from turning.

Then an incredible, deafening roar rang out across the desert air, swallowing up completely the sounds of gunfire. It started out distant, but grew impossibly louder as the source sped closer. Radcliffe had to cover his ears, turning and catching the eyes of two other Shields who took cover behind a second obelisk just a few yards away.

"What the hell is that?!" he yelled.

The other two craned their heads and necks, trying to catch a glimpse past the edge of the ruins to answer that very question for themselves. One of them finally spotted something, and he smiled.

"...The cavalry!"

Skye did indeed come charging in. On a Harley. Zooming through the ruins and ramping off a fallen pillar brandishing an honest-to-god submachine gun. She hit the sand and drove right into the herd of horses, firing left and right at raiders and easily overtaking them one by one. They dropped to the sand like flies, and not a one of them could lay so much as a finger on Skye as she raced past. It took less than a minute for the graverobbers to collectively call it quits, tugging hard on the reigns and riding off the way they came, becoming dots in the distance. The ones on foot scampered close behind, trying desperately to leap onto a horse and get the hell out of there as fast as they could. Shield laughed as they watched the enemy run, whooping and high-fiving in victory before moving to pick up the injured.

Skye circled her motorcycle back around, stuffing the submachine gun into a holster on her bike and drifting to a stop in front of her squad. She dismounted, brushing hair out of her face where the sweat made it stick.

One of the taller Shield members clapped her on the back, laughing.

"That was easily the most badass thing I've seen in my entire life," she told her.

"I'll take the compliment, Bobbi, but don't ever let May hear you say that," Skye chuckled.

One of the wounded got carried past her.

"Hey Blake. Get shot in the ass again? Nice. I flew in on my motorcycle. It was pretty cool, you should've seen it."

Blake just groaned as he was toted off in the direction of the camels.

"Anyone remember how far away we left the trucks?" Skye asked.

"Not far enough to be a problem for the hellion on the Harley."

"Good use of alliteration, Hunter. Blake rides with you on your camel."

"Oh, come on..." Hunter griped, absolutely _thrilled_ to be stuck with a man with the pain threshold of a toddler who barely had a tolerance for scraping his knees.

Skye stepped away from the others a bit, turning her earpiece back on.

["Well?"] May's voice was there immediately.

"Someday I'm gonna have something really cool to say into this thing, like 'target acquired' or 'initiating Phase 3', or—"

["Skye."]

"I handled it," Skye reported back. "Went in and took care of things just like you trained me to do when it gets rough."

["Good job. Take a final sweep of the ruins just to be sure everything's in place."]

"Will do."

Again she switched her comms unit off. Despite the dangerous turn of events the team came out of it relatively unscathed. Some were just barely grazed by a bullet or two and only in need of disinfectant and a roll of gauze. Then there was Blake and his poor ass, but everyone on the team knew that in spite of his moaning and moping he'd be just fine. One member had a sprained ankle and a scraped up leg from a fall, and the most serious injury was a bullet in the shoulder.

"Bobbi, make sure she gets fixed up," Skye nodded at the girl with the bullet wound.

"You got it."

Before she did one more sweep like May instructed, Skye searched out Radcliffe among the others and walked over, silently holding out her hand.

"Good show, Skye, good show," he reached out and vigorously shook her extended hand. She yanked it away.

"My guns, Radcliffe," she explained.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

He gave the handguns back. She stuck them in their holsters.

"Everyone grab a camel and start making your way back to the trucks. We'll drive to the outpost, rest there overnight, and be in Cairo again by tomorrow afternoon. Radcliffe, you wait for me right here by the bike. And don't touch anything."

"Aye aye," Radcliffe saluted.

Skye then took off away from the others, giving the ruins a quick walkthrough to be on the safe side.

She rather enjoyed what she did on a day to day basis. She loved the action and excitement, along with being regarded as Shield's top resident badass (second only to May). She liked the fact that they really were working to protect and conserve pieces of history, and thanks to a benefactor in the U.S. by the name of Phil Coulson, they actually got paid a nice salary for it. But what she really liked was being a part of something for once, and being a part of others.

Skye was an orphan. She spent her entire childhood and teenage years in foster care, bouncing around from place to place but never quite able to make one stick. From very early on she'd been smart enough to build up savings from the foster families that dished out allowances, and when the system kicked her out at eighteen she found herself blindly pointing a finger at a map and buying a ticket to Egypt. A high school teacher she grew particularly close to who was always sympathetic to her situation helped her land an apartment beforehand, and then Skye was gone.

The apartment was crappy, definitely not what it looked like online, but it was at least a roof over her head, although bills and rent would only last so long on childhood allowances. She'd washed out of finding a job in her city's local museum because they were looking less for receptionists and more for actual academics, not to mention the fact that Skye's grasp of Egyptian Arabic was limited to "hello" and "is there wi-fi?". It was there at the museum, scuffing her shoes against the floor, stressing over money, and dejectedly studying a small statue of a lesser Egyptian goddess she didn't recognize that she was spotted by Melinda May.

She was cold, stern, scary, and for a brief moment Skye thought she was security, about to manhandle her out the door and toss her onto the sidewalk. But instead May struck up her version of a conversation, even though it was apparent immediately that she was a woman of very few words. It was after a bit of clipped chit-chat and oddly specific questions about Skye's views on archaeology and anthropology that May asked if she was interested in a job, and three years later the rest was history.

Getting the chance to set foot in pieces of the past was a huge bonus to her work too, and sometimes her preliminary or final sweeps of a location would drag on a little longer than intended as she just took it all in and silently marveled at how the places where she stood had been standing right there too for thousands of years.

In a move that she was so glad her team wasn't around to see, she got so into her silent marveling that she tripped over her own feet and went tumbling head over heels down another sand dune.

"Oh for shit's sake..." she mumbled, reaching up to brush sand from her hair.

She stood and righted herself, not realizing until just then that a long shadow was being cast over her. She looked up. This statue she recognized. Anubis.

"Huh. Didn't see that coming," she commented to herself.

She took a studious glance all around her. The dune she fell down spilled her out into a dip in the desert, which explained why no one had spotted the statue from the ruins, along with the way it was sunken halfway into the sand. It had been chipped and worn away by the literal sands of time, and Skye found its appearance here, alone, separate from the rest of the complex, very strange. She started a slow and leisurely walk around the top half of the statue to get a good look at all sides, and (boy was she really glad her team was yards away) tripped once more, face-planting right into the gritty sand.

"I was not trained in stealth for _this!_ " she yelled at the sky after spitting out a mouthful of desert.

At least she could spare herself some small fraction of embarrassment, for it was not her own feet she ungracefully and unstealthily stumbled over this time, but something small and dark jutting out of the sand. She got to her knees and crawled over, attempting to pull out whatever it was but finding it wouldn't come loose until she employed a little freehand digging. She got it out though, blowing off sand, sitting back and turning the thing around and around in her hands.

To Skye's only mildly-trained eye it resembled some kind of ancient jewelry box, round and wide and fitting neatly in the palm of her hand. Ancient it was indeed, as she brought it close and found Egyptian hieroglyphs etched over each and every octagonal face of whatever black rock the box had been carved from eons ago. What appeared to be the lid was ringed with eight small hinges like the top would open up in eight different pieces, but she fiddled around with it for a while and couldn't for the life of her find a way to get it open. She knew May would want it brought back though, so she pocketed it and stood up.

The wind blew like hot breath, stirring the dry desert air but offering no relief like that of a cool breeze. It tossed the hair that had come loose from Skye's ponytail and whispered as it drifted past.

No...scratch that. It was _literally_ whispering.

Skye pulled out both handguns quick as a flash when she heard the voice in the wind, prepared to shoot at a raider. But she whirled around in a circle, stepping here and stepping there with her trigger fingers ready, and found no one, not a single soul but her. Yet there was definitely a voice in the air, muttering and mumbling in a language she couldn't identify.

It was coming from the Anubis.

Her expression twisted into that of "what the hell? ?" and she backed away, keeping a barrel trained right on the statue like she expected it to spring to life at any moment.

And then the desert exploded around her.

Like landmines beneath her feet and a whirlwind spiraling above, plumes of sand erupted and enveloped her, raining grain and grit over her body and trapping her in one hell of a dust devil. She ducked around, sidestepped, threw herself out of the way, but it was as if the huge clouds of sand were after her personally, chasing her down wherever she moved. That was all it took to elicit Skye's biggest "screw it" for the day and send her hightailing it up the dune and racing through the ruins, not stopping until she hit Radcliffe waiting with the Harley.

It was a good thing she didn't stay to watch the desert continue to churn and shift like liquid at the base of the statue.

It was a good thing she didn't look back.

It was a good thing she didn't see the enormous shape of the monstrous face, contorted with rage, rising forth from the sand and silently screaming into the sky.


	2. Encounter of Chance

Friday was the day of the week that a handful of various university students usually came to volunteer in the library for extra credit.

This particular Friday was the day that Fitz forever shattered the stereotype of the quiet, soft-spoken librarian by pacing, raving, and ranting half in English and half in Arabic.

Four boys stood in a row by the bookshelves, heads trailing back and forth as they followed Fitz's pacing to the left and the right.

"By its very definition the word 'library' implies a sense of order. _Order!_ " Fitz emphasized the word and then repeated it in Arabic for even more emphasis.

The boys didn't seem fazed in the slightest, like they had no interest in Fitz's ranting.

"Now maybe I could have let it slide on the grounds that you've never shelved before, but did any of you even _think_ to ask? You're students for God's sake, you know how a library works!"

"Oh Fitz, do stop shouting. It's bad form for a librarian," Jemma arrived, recognizing Fitz's annoyed tones from halfway across the university library.

Fitz sighed heavily, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temple.

"Just go," he told the boys in Arabic, pointing in the direction of the exit.

They left silently, not bothering to offer up any sort of apology for whatever it was they had done. Jemma watched as they went, frowning in confusion.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

Fitz huffed and went to the closest shelf, pulling out books.

"These damned professors sending their delinquents to my library to pick up a little free extra credit," he grumbled, setting a stack of books on a table and going back for Round 2.

"I still don't get it," Jemma said.

"It means we got some new acquisitions in this morning and instead of even attempting to organize the books in a nice, orderly fashion they just shoved them onto shelves all willy-nilly!" Fitz explained, putting down the second stack and throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh no," Jemma knew and understood that her best friend's anger was entirely warranted.

"Half of medieval philosophy ended up in engineering, Greek and Latin literature are all jumbled up, and I don't even _know_ where earth sciences went," a frazzled Fitz ran a hand through his messy hair.

"....Not to worry Fitz, we'll get it all sorted out," the professor set her work bag on the table, ready to help.

"No, this is the only day this week you have an evening to yourself without lesson plans to do or homework to grade," Fitz firmly denied. "Who knows how long it's going to take to fix this mess, just go home."

"But—"

"I'd rather do it myself anyway, I'm the one who knows how to properly organize and catalog every book in this place."

Even without much of an argument, Jemma knew he wouldn't budge.

"...Alright," she conceded. "Stop by my flat afterwards for a much-needed drink?"

"Sure."

Although visibly reluctant to leave Fitz hanging, Jemma slung her bag over her shoulder and left with a goodbye and a "good luck". Fitz waved, and then just stood there among the wreckage, unsure of where to start.

"...Out of all the bloody countries in Africa we had to pick one that doesn't use the Dewey Decimal System."

* * *

Jemma's flat was not where Fitz stopped by afterwards for a much-needed drink, but a pub; sitting at the bar with a bottle of Egyptian beer and watching rather uninterestedly as a football game played across the television screens (proper football, not the American nonsense). He was just making his way to a second bottle and a plate of nachos when someone dropped down onto the stool right next to him. One of the bartenders came over right away, waiting for an order to be made.

"I apologize in advance, but I know very little Arabic. If you know very little English we might be able to make something work, but otherwise I'll just save everyone's time and resort to pointing," the woman beside Fitz said.

He glanced over at her. She was clad in a dusty leather jacket and a hat that looked like it was lifted right off of Indiana Jones' head. Fitz took a swig of beer to keep from laughing.

The bartender just stood there and stared. The woman sighed.

"Pointing it is then."

Fitz leaned over.

"What are you after?" he asked.

She looked over at him.

"I'll have what you're having."

Fitz got the bartender's attention to give him the order in Arabic, and a beer was promptly slid over to the woman.

"Tourist?" Fitz asked.

"Resident."

"Ah, welcome to Egypt then."

"Been here three years, but thanks."

Fitz had his beer halfway to his lips for another drink, but stopped.

"Three years and you haven't learned how to properly get around?" he chuckled incredulously.

"I'm a busy gal, I haven't had the time to learn 'gimme a beer' in Arabic," she said.

"Huh. I promise I'm not trying to be a bar creep—"

"Pub creep."

"Pub creep, yes, but Americans are just a bit of a novelty around here lately," Fitz explained.

"I, on the other hand, have weirdly enough had my fair share of British people."

"Scottish, actually."

"Yep, that's what the other one says too. And you're not being a creep. Trust me, I know how to handle creeps. You can call me Skye."

"Leo Fitz, but you can call me Fitz."

Skye gave him a little wave and drank her beer.

"So, you said you're a busy gal. What is it that you do?" Fitz asked.

"I'm a collector of antiques and artifacts," Skye answered without hesitation.

Fitz's eyes lit up.

"Really? How about that. I'm an archaeologist," he told her. "Well, my best friend would say _amateur_ archaeologist, but I know my stuff."

"...Archaeologist?" Skye repeated.

In one sudden movement she was digging into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a cloth and unwrapping it to reveal a small, octagonal box. Fitz's eyes were practically sparkling now.

"...What is _that_ beauty?" he asked.

"I'm hoping you can tell me. I'm no archaeologist, but occasionally I dig up my own antiques. I had someone else lined up to take a look at this, but she's out of town until tomorrow. Don't normally carry priceless artifacts around in my pocket, but...something told me it would be better off with me."

She handed the cloth over to Fitz, and he took it gingerly like it was a newborn baby he held in his hands.

"...It's made of stone, you know. You can touch it, Fitz," Skye pointed out.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Still gingerly and gently, he held the cloth in one hand and picked up the box with the other, holding it up to what little dim light was in the pub to examine it.

"Where did you find this?" he wondered, turning it around and around to study the hieroglyphs etched on its eight faces.

"It was totally by accident, so it's not like I was paying attention to an exact location, but it was somewhere near the Valley of the Queens."

"The Valley of the—no, no. The Valley of the Queens dates back to the New Kingdom, this box is distinctly Old Kingdom."

"Gets dusty out in the desert. Maybe it's been blown around for a few thousand years."

Fitz didn't say anything to Skye, just muttered a little unintelligibly to himself. Skye managed to catch a few things here and there, like "fascinating", and "not empirically possible", along with "incredible, really incredible".

Skye just watched with an eyebrow raised, drinking her beer.

"You see these hieroglyphs here?" Fitz leaned over and pointed.

"Saw them already, yeah. Don't tell me you can read them?"

"Well, not perfectly. My grasp on Ancient Egyptian is only a tad more accomplished than your grasp on Arabic, but these hieroglyphs constitute the words of some kind of spell," Fitz explained excitedly.

"Uh, whoa, a spell? Are we talking good spell or should I go wash my hands a couple hundred times?"

"Oh, please. The wrath of Egyptian curses is all fairytales and hokum. Spells to the Ancient Egyptians are merely what prayers are to the modern day."

"Fairytales, huh?" Skye remembered a disembodied voice in the wind, a strange sandstorm from out of nowhere that seemed to chase her around and around. "Order me another beer, will you? Make it two."

Fitz handed the box back over and flagged down the bartender. Skye wrapped the artifact back up and dropped it snugly into her pocket once more.

"Rough night?" he curiously questioned, noting the abundance of alcohol.

"All my nights are rough."

"Tell me about it," Fitz joked. "Aside from my archaeology gig, I moonlight at the university. Bunch of punk teenagers all but ruined my library."

"Ouch. Tough breaks," Skye lifted her first bottle. "To Egypt."

Fitz clinked his bottle to hers.

"To Egypt."

* * *

Skye's night must have been exceptionally rough, and her tomorrow morning was shaping up to be even rougher if the multitude of empty beer bottles scattered around her was any indication.

"Fitz!! Ya leavin' already, buddy?" Skye very loudly asked when Fitz stood up from his stool.

"Well, long day tomorrow. Lots of books. Even more pages," he faked a yawn. "Gotta get my rest."

He paid for his drinks and nachos, and even considerately put down the money for Skye's drinks in the very probable event that she passed out without paying.

"Catch ya later!!" Skye yelled as Fitz started to walk away.

"Later, yes, perhaps. Night."

He hurried across the pub, quickly ducking outside without even stopping to shrug into his jacket just to get away from the dozens of eyes watching him like _he_ was the lunatic yelling drunkenly across the room.

Fitz let out a sigh of relief when he was in the safety of the outside world, and made the time to put his jacket on while he walked to his car. Before pulling the keys out of the left pocket he pulled something out of the right.

He unfolded the cloth, looked down at the ancient stone box concealed within, and smiled.

 


	3. The Great Unfolding of an Antique Mystery

Fitz's bad Friday turned into Jemma's bad Monday.

Her morning was like something straight out of a cartoon, and the rest of the day was no better. She slept straight through her alarm. Her shirt sleeve tore on the edge of her dresser in her mad dash out of the bedroom. Her car—secondhand, aged, yet trusty to a fault—picked the one day she was running late to stall in front of the apartment for five minutes.

She thought the university would be a safe haven from the raincloud thundering above her head, but no such luck. She'd slaved away the night before over a PowerPoint to go along with the day's lecture on Ancient Egyptian architecture, but of course, the USB drive got left at home in her scramble to get a foot out the door.

The raincloud followed her around all day in some form or another, all the way down to the pile of paperwork from the department head that had Jemma stuck in the classroom until seven at night. She was sure she was the only one left in the Egyptology wing at this point as it had quieted down hours ago, so a faint thudding sound from somewhere out in the hallway got her attention right away. She looked up from her laptop, looked over her shoulder to see out into the hallway, stared for a couple seconds, and went back to work. Probably just the pipes or the air conditioning.

But another thud and the sound of footsteps got her attention and broke the bubble of focus she was trying to so hard to stay in. She rose from her desk and sighed at her own damnable curiosity, knowing that was what was making her get up to see who was out in the hallway instead of leaving well enough alone and finishing her work.

She leaned out of the doorway to peer into the hall, but didn't see much of anything. This late in the evening most of the overhead lights were turned off, and only a few tiny pockets of the hallway were dimly illuminated. Not seeing anything would've usually been enough to satiate her mild curiosity, but there was still the occasional shuffling and scuttling sound every few seconds. So instead of going back to her piles of papers, she stepped out of the classroom and slowly started traversing the hall.

"Hello?" she said aloud.

With the telltale signs of someone else in the hallway with her she was expecting some sort of an answer, but none came. She walked past the next two classrooms on her side of the hall before deciding to call out once more. She said hello again, then a third time in Arabic, but still nothing. Confused, she shrugged to herself, and turned the corner.

And found herself face to face with a mummy.

Her initial gasp of surprise turned into a long scream as the wrinkled, disfigured face looked right at her with its dead, white eyes, and where her scream faded away a peal of laughter took its place.

The mummy moved aside rather stiffly, revealing a laughing Fitz.

Jemma felt a wave of red rushing to her cheeks, and when her heart left her throat she laid right into him.

"Fitz!! Have you no respect for the academic workplace??" she yelled, glad the darkened hallway hid her frenzied blush.

Fitz had to wait for his laughter to die down before he spoke.

"Say what you will, but every workplace has the room for a little fun, it was only a harmless prank," he chuckled one last time at the priceless expression on Jemma's face. "And it's entirely academic. We just got all the old Universal monster films on loan for the English department. Dracula, The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, The Mummy, all the classics."

After taking a closer look, Jemma saw that the mummy she'd just stared down was merely a life-sized cardboard cutout held by Fitz.

"Want me to grab one of the movies for tonight? You and I both know anything with Boris here always spells fun," the librarian tapped the cutout of the mummy, played in the movie by Boris Karloff.

"Fitz, now is not the time," Jemma sternly huffed, whirling around and storming back down the hall the way she came.

"Wha— ...Jemma?" he followed right behind her, toting the cutout along with him.

Jemma went back into her classroom and dropped heavily in her chair, reorganizing the papers where the sudden movement caused them to scatter.

"I'm not in the mood for your pranks today," she said.

Fitz leaned mummy Karloff against the wall by the light switch.

"What's wrong?" he wondered.

"What's wrong? Everything. Everything that could possibly go wrong has gone wrong. It's one of those days."

"Ah, one of those days," Fitz, for all his intellect and mental prowess, understood the one simple truth of the power of bad luck. "...Well, in that case, I've just the thing to cheer you up."

He unzipped a pocket of the messenger bag slung across him and started digging through it.

"I do appreciate the offer Fitz, but maybe we should save the monster movies for another—"

Fitz procured a small, black, stone box, holding it out to Jemma in the palm of his hand.

"—Time..." the professor finished, effectively shut up at the sight of it.

Without even needing an invitation she took it from Fitz, turning it around and around with scholarly intrigue.

"What in the world..." she whispered, before raising her voice again. "Where did you get this?"

"One of my 'amateur' digs this weekend, near, uh, The Valley of the Queens," Fitz answered.

"This weekend?"

"Yeah. What do you think? Have we got something?"

Jemma looked over the top of the box, how its octagonal face was split into eight different hinge-like sections. All sides of it were surprisingly smooth for being lost in the desert for thousands of years, and as her fingers nimbly traced over every centimeter of the etched hieroglyphs she felt something like a small groove along the bottom of the box. She pressed a finger into it.

The hinges sprang open like the millennia meant nothing to them, and both Fitz and Jemma let loose a surprised gasp.

"...Did you know it did that?" Jemma whispered.

"I did not know it did that," Fitz said back, wide-eyed. "Um...Jemma?"

He pointed at a folded piece of paper sticking out of the box from where the top had opened. Both of them were ridiculously wide-eyed, anyone walking in now would've found the scene highly comical. Carefully, like she was handling a ticking time bomb, Jemma set the box down on her desk and took the paper out of it. It was papyrus, weathered and soft, and with the same care and caution she unfolded it. Fitz unknowingly held his breath as she did so.

"Good lord..." Jemma breathed.

Fitz came closer, standing behind Jemma's chair and peering over her shoulder.

"It's a map!" his raised voice startled the both of them; Jemma jumped in her seat.

The papyrus may have been worn by time, but the colorful inks and dyes on it were not, standing out bright and vividly. It was indeed a map, ancient and cryptic.

"...Can you read it?" Fitz asked.

It was painted with gods and goddesses, lines criss-crossing here and there, dotted all over with hieroglyphs and hieratic.

"Well, it might take a bit of time, but...good lord!!" Jemma exclaimed.

"What??"  
  
The professor pointed to the upper left hand corner of the map.

"This cartouche..."

Fitz leaned over her shoulder to get a better look, but couldn't read it. The hieroglyphs were outside his skill set.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"Why it's...it's the seal of Pharaoh Djedefre."

"The cursed mummy??"

"Oh Fitz, don't bring that nonsense back up," Jemma frowned.

"So it's the seal of the Pharaoh. Why the 'good lord'?"

* * *

"You see? The location on this map doesn't lead to Djedefre's burial site at Abu Rawash _or_ the seat of any known royal city!" Jemma excitedly said, eyes sparkling.

Luckily for the pair, the head of the Egyptology department, Professor Sarraf, was one of the few other souls burning the midnight oil at the university. Jemma found her in the artifacts lab, and presented the map accordingly. Professor Sarraf studied it and the ancient box in avid silence, with Jemma and Fitz hovering around her.

"Incredible..." she said to herself. "You're right, Professor Simmons, this map doesn't point to any site of significance for Pharaoh Djedefre or any other Pharaoh before or after his time."

"Perhaps it's a treasure map," Fitz chuckled.

The two women gave him reproachful stares.

"What? Yes, I'm aware that the ancient Egyptians were the epitome of taking it all with you, but what if?" he went on. "Let's say Djedefre was a step ahead. To this very day Egypt is plagued by tomb raiders, what if the Pharaoh buried his wealth separate from Abu Rawash to thwart future graverobbers? Imagine all the historical artifacts and knowledge that could be waiting under the sands if we only follow this map?"

Jemma was skeptical, but Professor Sarraf now had a shine in her eye.

"Yes, I suppose it certainly does merit investigation," she said. "Provided we date this map first to assure its authenticity."

"Of course, I'll get right on it," Jemma nodded.

"I'll handle it, Professor Simmons. In my opinion you've spent far too much time behind your desk. I’ll want you and Mr. Fitz to lead a team to the site."

"Time in the field Jemma! Do you even remember how it works?" Fitz joked.

"Funny, Fitz. Let's go."

They took the stone box and left the map with Professor Sarraf, leaving the artifacts lab.

"Exciting, isn't it?" Jemma asked. "An ancient map, a site lost to the sands of time, a chance to finally get back out there and go on a dig...and imagine what we might actually find! We might end up completely rewriting the history of the Pharaoh!"

"Or unleashing the curse of the mummy upon the world and dooming humanity as we know it."

Fitz teased her as they got back to the classroom and he spotted his cardboard cutout again, picking it up and waving it around with spooky little "ooooh" noises.

"Or that," Jemma played along this time, too intrigued by the evening's events to keep reproaching Fitz's story about the cursed mummy of Djedefre. "With Professor Sarraf's permission, I'd also like to take our team to investigate around where this box came from."

She turned it around in her hands once more before setting it on her desk.

"The Valley of the Kings, the perfect place to start your reintroduction to the world of archaeological expeditions," Fitz smiled.

Jemma paused. Turned around to face Fitz. Narrowed her eyes.

"Where?"

The librarian was caught off guard by the harsh look on her face.

"The Valley of the Kings," he nervously repeated.

"You told me you found it near The Valley of the Queens."

Fitz's eyes went wide.

"Ah...so I did..."

"Fitz," Jemma warily and warningly said his name, stepping closer to him.

He backed away, taking the cutout with him and using it as a shield between himself and his best friend.

"It was a simple slip of the tongue," he tried to argue.

The professor wasn't buying it, she knew him entirely too well.

"Fitz," she said again, utilizing her stern teacher face.

"What?? I told you, I went out on a little dig this weekend to The Valley of the Queens and I happened to stumble upon this box!"

"Leopold Fitz, you tell me where you really found it!"

"Alright, alright!" he caved, fearful of Jemma's wrath. "...I was at the pub on Friday, this woman wandered in, we chatted a bit, she introduced herself as a collector of artifacts, she showed me the box, and then she had a few too many so I—"

"So you _stole_ it off her??" a testy Jemma finished for him.

"Picked her pocket, actually," Fitz sheepishly corrected. "She was a layman, Jemma! 'Collector of artifacts', I mean really. Who’s believing that? This box is much better off in the hands of the experts."

"It doesn't belong to us, Fitz. If we go on this expedition with a stolen artifact, it could jeopardize both our careers! We have to find the woman you got the box from."

"Wha— ...Why??" Fitz looked terrified at the thought of facing Skye again after he'd pickpocketed her.

"Because she's the one who really found it. We need her permission before we even think about going ahead with this dig," Jemma explained. "If we're lucky maybe she'll accept an offer to come along with us and let bygones be bygones."

"I think that is a terrible idea."

"And I think you don't get a say in it. Now come on."

Jemma turned off her laptop and desk lamp before grabbing her bag off the floor and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Where are we going?" Fitz asked.

"Back to the pub. We're going to track that girl down if it takes every ancient map in the entirety of Egypt."

* * *

 

The place was packed for a Monday night, Jemma and Fitz had to elbow their way through the crowd like weedwhackers to get to the bar. Some small bit of luck was on their side, because the same bartender who'd waited on Fitz and Skye over the weekend was behind the bar tonight.

"Hi, hello, remember me?" Fitz asked in Arabic.

The bartender glanced at him for half a second and just nodded, more focused on drying glasses than talking.

"Good, that's great," Fitz went on, hyperaware of Jemma watching and listening behind him like a surveillance camera. "Would you also happen to remember the girl—uh, woman—who was sitting here talking to me on Friday?"

The bartender nodded again.

"Good, that's great too," the librarian kept talking in Arabic. "My friend and I are sort of looking for her. Any chance you noticed where she might have popped off to after I left?"

Finally, the bartender put his glass down and answered with more than just a nod.

Jemma's eyes went wide.

"...Fitz, did he just say—"

"Yes, yes he did. He just told us to check the local prison."


	4. Getting Underway

Jemma clung fearfully to Fitz's arm like he was any sort of decent protection when in reality he was clinging to her arm with just as much fervor.

The warden led them down the dirty, dusty halls of the city prison, where scary looking men and dangerous looking women leered at them through the bars or were marched dangerously close to them by prison guards chaperoning them to other parts of the jail. Jemma was floored by seeing men and women thrown together in one single penitentiary, even though it was explained to her and Fitz at check-in that the place mainly served as more of a holding area for prisoners waiting to be transferred to federal institutions.

"I cannot believe you got me into this," Jemma harshly whispered to Fitz as a heavily tattooed man muttered something unintelligible in Arabic at them as they walked by.

"No one said you had to go chasing this woman all the way to the city jail!" Fitz whispered back, just as harshly yet moving to smush himself even closer to Jemma.

"We need to talk to her about that box. She's the only one who can lead us back to where she found it and we're not going to take the credit for any expedition made with an artifact that rightfully belongs to her."

The heavily accented warden let the two know that the cell they were heading for was just at the end of this particularly run-down hallway.

"What exactly is this woman in prison for?" Jemma timidly asked.

"Vigilante," the warden gruffly answered. "Connected to an underground group of 'treasure protectors' known for stalking ancient sites and fighting off would-be tomb raiders."

Jemma lifted an impressed eyebrow.

"Why, that sounds rather commendable, actually," she said.

"Fighting off would-be tomb raiders with illegally obtained firearms and tracking their movements with illegal surveillance tactics," the warden finished.

"...Ah," Jemma muttered.

After a harrowing journey they finally reached the cell, and Fitz immediately recognized Skye sitting on the floor in the corner, oh-so-stylish in her standard issue prison uniform. She didn't even look up when the three came to a stop outside the bars.

"You've got company," the warden barked.

Taking her sweet time, Skye turned her head and glanced in the direction of his voice, her bored and uninterested eyes widening in an instant.

"You!!" she jumped to her feet, stirring up the dust lining the floor.

"Hello," Fitz shyly waved for lack of a better gesture.

She wasn't at all what Jemma was expecting. Young, around the same age as her and Fitz, and despite being trussed up in a poorly-kept prison for four days...really rather pretty. Hair down around her shoulders, eyes brown and glaring viciously at Fitz, and looking very much like she could karate chop her way out of this cell anytime she wanted to and ninja-kick the librarian down the hall.

"... _This_  is the woman you got the box from?" Jemma asked incredulously.

"'Stole' is the more appropriate word," from behind the bars, she didn't tear her gaze away from Fitz for a second. "Who's the chick?"

"Chick?" Jemma snapped out of her mild daze and focused her energies on being offended. "I happen to have a name, and it would be polite of you to tell me yours."

"My name doesn't matter, but you can call me Skye."

"And you can call me Jemma. Jemma Simmons," her ingrained Britishness made her reflexively stick out her hand for a handshake, before realizing what she was doing and letting it drop to her side. "I take it you and Fitz need no introduction?"

"I'd like to introduce my fist to his face," Skye growled.

The warden whacked his nightstick against the bars for the threat. Skye was unfazed, just turned her glare on him for a couple seconds instead of Fitz.

"Now, to be fair, it isn't his fault you're in here," Jemma tried to reason.

"No, but maybe him and his sticky fingers ought to be in the cell beside me."

Fitz fearfully eyed the warden like he was at risk of getting chucked behind bars himself, but the warden just stood back with zero interest in the ramblings of a criminal.

"Actually, that's why we've come to talk to you," Jemma said.

"So I can punch him?" Skye's eyes comically lit up.

"What??" Fitz squeaked.

"What? No, we've come to talk about the artifact he nicked off of you."

Against Fitz's "bad idea" head shake, Jemma moved closer to the bars and lowered her voice.

"...Did you know there was a map inside that stone box?" she asked.

Skye's rough and tough demeanor faltered for the first time.

"...A map?" she repeated. "No, I...the thing looked like it might open, but I couldn't figure out how."

"There's a slight and small indentation along the bottom. You press it, and the box opens."

Skye watched Jemma's eyes glitter excitedly while talking about the artifact, and she smirked.

"You're kind of a nerd, aren't you?" she teased.

Jemma turned pink in the cheeks.

"I am an archaeologist and an Egyptologist," she protested.

"Those are just two five-syllable ways to say 'nerd'."

Before Jemma could argue any more, the set of doors at the opposite end of the hallway slammed open, clanging loudly against the brick walls and turning all heads. Into the corridor strode a kickass looking Asian woman who could damn near pass for early 30s and carried herself with the demeanor of someone who would sooner take your hand and flip you across the room than shake it. At her side walked a sharply-dressed man with cool, calculating eyes whose expression was set into a sort of perpetually amused smile, and the both of them stared straight ahead the entire time they briskly made their way down to Skye's exact jail cell.

"I'm Agent Wen, this is Agent Gregg. FBI. We'll take it from here," the Asian woman and the man beside her flashed badges at the warden, but one glance at the so-called Agent Wen was enough to make him already start scooting out of sight before he even got official identification.

"May," Skye said the name in a relieved sigh when the warden was gone. "I thought you'd never get here."

"And I thought I trained you to not get yourself drunkenly tossed in a jail cell."

"It was an off night."

"Who are they?" May jerked her head in the direction of the scholars without looking at them.

"Fitzsimmons, Melinda May. Melinda May, two people who were just leaving."

"Now wait one moment—" Jemma tried to interrupt.

"And who's this?" Skye interrupted her interruption, looking at "Agent Gregg".

"You remember our generous benefactor," May simply said.

"...This is Phil Coulson?"

"A pleasure. Sorry it wasn't under better circumstances," Coulson said.

Fitz, sensing they were in the middle of something they shouldn't be in the middle of, was tugging desperately at Jemma's sleeve to silently signal "let's get the bloody hell out of here". Jemma completely ignored him.

"You two are part of the same organization she is?" the professor brazenly asked.

May shot a chilling glance at Skye.

"Hey, the warden talked! Not me!" Skye quickly said in her defense.

"He said you were a group of treasure protectors," Jemma skipped over the part about illegal weapons and surveillance. "That you keep Egypt's history out of the hands of thieves?"

"That is exactly what we do," Coulson was on the friendlier side.

"Fitz and I are Egyptologists with Cairo University, we find your work admirable," Jemma smiled.

"...Extremely admirable, yes," Fitz finally decided to just play along. "That's why we tracked Skye all the way here, you see, she gave me this artifact—"

"Artifact?" May questioned.

Jemma hurriedly unzipped a small pocket of her work bag and procured a cloth, unwrapping it to reveal the stone box.

"It was by pure chance that we happened to meet at the pub this weekend, and when she learned I was an archaeologist at the university she asked me to take a look at this finding of hers," Fitz blithely lied.

Coulson and May came closer for a better look.

"This is the artifact you told me about?" May asked.

"Before I got thrown in the slammer, yes," Skye answered.

"I honestly couldn't make much of it myself, but Jemma..." Fitz went on.

With all eyes on her, Jemma ceremoniously pressed the indentation on the stone bottom of the box, springing the top open.

"The inside of it held a  _map_ ," she gleefully said.

"A map," May dryly repeated. "And where is this map?"

"In safe hands with the head of our Egyptology department, she's dating the map as we speak," Fitz assured everyone.

"Did you get a good look at it?" Coulson wondered.

Jemma jumped back in with all her scholarly excitement over the discovery.

"It bears the name of one of the Pharaohs of the 4th Dynasty, Djedefre," she started to explain. "But the fascinating part is that the map leads to no known location associated with the Pharaoh. It isn't his burial site, it isn't a royal city, as far as we can tell, it's just the middle of the desert."

"Our department head is putting us in charge of an archaeological expedition to the site. We've come to ask Skye to join us, it being her discovery and all," Fitz pushed his luck and gave her a big, fake smile.

"Do you realize what this means?" Coulson asked May.

"Maps don't just lead to the middle of the desert. There's something there," May said. "If word gets out about this, that there's a newly discovered site connected to a well-known Pharaoh..."

"Then the entire site will be at the mercy of bigger and badder waves of tomb raiders," Coulson finished. "Centuries of undiscovered history will be at risk."

"Oh dear..." Jemma said quietly.

"So get me out of here, get me that map, and let's get Shield down there guns-a-blazing," Skye suggested.

Coulson and May silently eyed her for a couple seconds.

"...No, I want this done quietly," Coulson began. "Congratulations Fitzsimmons, you're now part of an official Shield operation. May and I will supply your team with Shields to help you investigate the site and my own personal collectors and scholars to help you catalog anything and everything you may find. We'll start your team off with Skye."

Skye's face went blank.

"...Sorry, I've been in here four days and must've gotten a lot of prison dust in my ears, but it sounded like you just said I was going with them."

"A discovery of this magnitude needs our best member, and that's you," Coulson told her. "Shield treks through the desert day in and day out, no one knows the lay of the land better. You'll get these two to where they need to be and make sure everything you unearth is handed over to the safety of Cairo University."

"But I—"

"Don't have a say in the matter," May coldly finished. "It's an order, Skye."

Skye glumly looked over at Fitzsimmons and saw them grinning cheerily at her.

"...Understood," she conceded.

"Good. We'll head down to the main office and do the paperwork for your release," Coulson said.

He walked over to Jemma and Fitz, shaking both of their hands.

"Excited to be working with you," he told them with that amused smile of his.

"The feeling is mutual, sir," Jemma said back.

The two Shields left the hallway. The professor and librarian turned back to Skye's cell with those cheesy smiles of theirs.

"Excited to be working with  _you_ , Skye," Jemma cheekily said.

Skye was just moments away from repeatedly banging her head against the walls.

"I should've gotten lost in the desert when I had the chance."

* * *

 

It took only days for the journey to get underway.

Jemma and Fitz returned to the university that evening, perplexed to find that Coulson had already contacted Professor Sarraf and gotten the expedition crew set up—no questions asked on the part of the department head (a slightly concerned Fitz worried that Professor Sarraf might have been "Men-In-Blacked" after the conversation to ensure her agreement to the situation).

And in the two days that passed Fitz couldn't help but express even more concern about this mysterious Shield and its mysterious motives. Jemma exhibited only mild concern herself over the legality of the unheard of organization's actions, but wholeheartedly approved of their mission to preserve and protect history.

By Wednesday afternoon the pair found themselves three hours north of Cairo in Port Said, standing around the bustling docks as they waited for their ferry to come in. Tourists and workers alike crowded past them in every direction, and the two meekly tried their best to avoid being totally in the way.

"Jemma, I don't know about this," a disgruntled Fitz readjusted one of his duffel bags on his shoulder. "Don't you find it a bit odd that some secret criminal organization comes out of the woodworks and throws itself headfirst into our expedition?"

"They aren't a criminal organization, Fitz. Do I have some reservations about their methods? Yes. Do I think working alongside them and their members puts us in danger? No."

"Yes, well, you remember that when we're stranded at the bottom of the Nile wearing cement shoes."

Jemma rolled her eyes.

"You have  _got_  to stop watching so much American television."

They simultaneously moved out of the way of a passing group of sailors.

"Well I don't quite trust this Shield, and I definitely don't trust Skye," Fitz attested. "Who goes around calling themselves a collector of artifacts when they're secretly part of some equally secret underground vigilante group?"

"Someone trying to keep that secret," Jemma said.

"Exactly. It's all too mysterious. Did you see her in that prison? She looked entirely too at home, I'll bet you it wasn't her first time behind bars. She's probably nothing more than a face-punching, illegal gun-toting, curse word-slinging scoundrel."

"Yeah, I fucking hate people like that," Skye said.

She appeared behind them. Fitz froze at the sound of her voice, but Jemma turned to meet her. Skye stood with her own oversized duffel bag on her shoulder, wearing her hair down in spite of the Egyptian sun radiating intense heat on them. Jemma didn't know what she was expecting from a member of Shield; maybe a suit and sunglasses, maybe head-to-toe black and a ski mask, she honestly had no idea. But instead Skye just exuded casual with jeans, a tank top, and a well-worn tan jacket thrown over it.

"I like the hat," Jemma said.

Skye glanced up at the brim of the Indiana Jones-style hat on her head. The tiniest hint of a smile broke through her features.

"Thanks. Found it in a secondhand store one day and couldn't resist."

"It's very fitting. So, ready for our little expedition into the unknown?"

"I do this everyday. It's just another job to me," Skye answered.

"But what, uh...what exactly is the job this time?" Fitz timidly asked, very aware that the gun-toting curse word-slinger could deck him at any moment.

The ghost of a smile faded from Skye's face.

"Get you through the desert, let you do your nerd digging, get you back," she flatly answered. "I'm basically your overpaid babysitter."

Fitz's face narrowed into a pout.

"We do not need a—!"

"Now see here, Skye. This journey is very important to us, our university, and perhaps the entire academic community. Fitz and I have a chance to rewrite history with your help, and I want the three of us to respectfully work together, just as Shield and Cairo University will be working together to ensure that our archeological findings end up in safe, proper homes."

With Skye and Fitz exchanging a series of stink-eyes, Jemma was the one feeling like a babysitter.

"...There's our ride," Skye said, looking past Fitzsimmons and spotting the ferry coming up along the river.

She stepped forward and wordlessly picked up Jemma's suitcases, and the professor watched rather fixated as Skye went off ahead of them down the dock. Fitz's eyes went wide.

"Wha...? Jemma, no," he firmly said, picking up the suitcases of his own which Skye so conveniently didn't offer to carry.

"No? No what?" Jemma turned to face him.

"I've got eyes, Jemma, I see you staring at her."

"Oh, don't be silly," she waved his words away and began to walk in the direction of the upcoming ferry as well. "She's just a curious character, that's all."

"And potentially dangerous," Fitz struggled to follow after her with all his luggage. "We don't know what we're getting into here, we should keep our eyes open. And by open, I don't mean trained on Skye."

"Now you're just exaggerating, I merely glanced in her direction."

The two rejoined Skye at the end of the dock, where the ferry had pulled in and come to a stop, and they were just minutes away from getting on board.

"So, where's the rest of our crew?" Jemma asked, trying to keep awkward silence at bay.

Skye scanned all along the docks, looking for familiar faces.

"That's a good question, Professor...let's just get on board."

The vessel Coulson had chartered was far from first class, meant only to take them quickly and quietly up the Nile to the point where Skye would guide them inland through the desert.

Apparently already knowing where she was going, Skye led them around the deck to where the cabins were housed. Fitz's nose crinkled as they walked.

"What is that smell?" he asked.

"Camels," Skye answered simply. "Are you trying to tell me you've gone on all your little nerd digs and you don't know the smell of camels?"

"We take trucks and jeeps to our excavation sites," Jemma explained.

"It is the 21st century, after all," Fitz added.

Skye chuckled.

"Then you must not have gone very far. Trucks and jeeps are all well and good when there's actual ground still under your feet, but I'd like to see you try to drive a truck over a dune of pure sand."

The smell just got worse and worse until Fitzsimmons saw with their own eyes that the camel pen was right next to the cabins. There were at least a dozen of them idling peacefully in the space, turning their heads to watch as strangers approached.

"Aww, look at them!" Jemma's face lit up. "They all look like they're smiling!"

"Yeah, I love that about them," Skye grinned, briefly stopping over at the pen to give one a pat on the neck.

"Camels spit," Fitz said under his breath.

Skye looked over her shoulder and saw Jemma wistfully eyeing the animals.

"Come say hi, Simmons. They're sweethearts."

Happily accepting the invitation, Jemma joined Skye at her side. Fitz, meanwhile was wistfully eyeing something as well, only in his case it was the cabins as he struggled under the weight of his luggage. Jemma slowly raised a hand, and two camels craned their necks to curiously sniff at her. She giggled at the tickle of their breaths.

"Adorable," she said.

Skye picked up Jemma's bags again where she had set them down to pat the camels.

"Fitz, welcome to Bunk Number 1," she gave the door a little kick and it swung open.

"...I have to stay right by the camels??"

"Don't worry, you'll get used to the smell."

Skye turned and went back down the deck, three rooms down, as a matter of fact.

"Simmons, you get Bunk Number 4," she kicked that door open too and set Jemma's luggage inside the room, a cabin a safe distance away from the camel pen.

"Why thank you, Skye," Jemma smiled at her.

The Shield member just nodded.

"Alright, well, go ahead and get comfortable. We won't make it to our drop-off point until nightfall," she said.

"It's certainly been a rather long day already, hasn't it? I had to make sure everything was squared away at the university so my classes would be taken care of, make sure all my travel preparations were made, then there was the three hour drive up here, and now the journey up the river..."

"You really haven't been on an actual trip out to the desert, have you?" Skye realized.

"Well...no," Jemma bashfully admitted. "I give Fitz a hard time about being an 'amateur' archaeologist because he never properly studied the field in college, but I've barely even been outside of Cairo for a dig. All my trips were hours-long affairs, not days-long like this one will be."

Skye shrugged.

"It's a big country. A lot to see. Might as well start now."

"Fancy yourself a great explorer?" Jemma asked, putting one of her duffel bags on the rickety bed.

"The hat is misleading," Skye laughed. "I just do the jobs that Shield asks me to, nothing more and nothing less. And speaking of, I'm gonna go keep an eye out for the rest of our team."

She turned around and left the cabin after nodding a goodbye to Jemma. Fitz took her place just minutes later, coming in and waving the camel smell away from his nose.

"This is clearly abuse," he said. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"You stole from her," Jemma said simply, unzipping the duffel bag and taking out a couple research books to pass the time. "Can't imagine anyone would like you very much after that. Perhaps you should apologize."

"...Ah, right," Fitz realized he hadn't even apologized to Skye for what he'd done. "So she's—"

"Waiting by the gangway for the rest of our crew."

"And you don't think she'll—"

"Punch you squarely overboard and into the Nile? She might," Jemma moved her books over to a shabby wooden table.

"Well then...at least your mum and dad taught us to swim," Fitz morosely shrugged and shuffled out of the cabin, looking very much like a man being trotted out to an execution chamber.

He passed a couple of the boat's crewmen, who paid him no attention, as he walked along the deck, and found Skye right where Jemma said she'd be.

"Skye, hello, me again," he sidled over to her. "I was wondering if I might talk to you for a minute. Face to face, not fist to face."

"Oh for shit's sake," Skye suddenly grumbled.

Fitz was briefly offended that this was her reaction to a reconciliation, but quickly realized that he wasn't the subject of her ire. Five men and one woman were right at the docks and coming up the gangway, and Fitz wisely assumed them to be the other Shield members.

"Radcliffe, what the hell are you doing here?" Skye demanded.

Holden Radcliffe paused right at the edge of the dock.

"Ah...I take it May didn't fill you in?" he sheepishly asked.

"One, when have you ever known May to be chatty? And two, the 'Radcliffe, what the hell are you doing here?' kind of implied that."

"This is the rest of the team?" Fitz asked.

"My team, at least."

Skye gave a long-suffering sigh and pointed out each of the Shields in turn.

"My partner—Holden Radcliffe, Kara Palamas...Sitwell? Really? A paperwork guy with zero field experience? No offense, man."

Jasper Sitwell, a bald man with glasses who looked every bit like a paperwork guy, uttered a gruff "hmph."

"Then Burrows, Davis, and Nathanson," Skye introduced the rest. "Everyone, Leo Fitz. Archaeologist."

Fitz dorkishly waved, and in return received two curt nods and just plain stares from the other four Shields.

"Anyone from Phil Coulson's side show up yet?" Radcliffe asked.

"Not yet," Skye answered. "But climb aboard anyway."

Radcliffe led the way, hoisting his bags along with him.

"Did anyone remember to bring snacks?" he said over his shoulder to his teammates, wearing a joking grin.

Skye just turned on her heels and walked away before she could give in to the urge to facepalm.

"Oh, it's going to be a long evening..."


	5. Ferry Tales and Bedlam

Coulson's crew arrived at just the last minute, introducing themselves as Victoria Hand, Isabelle Hartley, and Antoine Triplett. Triplett greeted Shield and Fitzsimmons with an easygoing smile and a "Call me Trip" as he shook team leader Skye's hand. Isabelle Hartley elbowed him out of the way with a cocky smile and her own "Call me Hartley", and Victoria Hand wore no smile at all on her icy, stone-set face.

Skye and her Shield members were on the rough-and-tumble, action/adventure side of life, while Hand appeared to carry Coulson's team more on the side of reserved academia, which is what drew Jemma and Fitz to her side as the ferry started its journey chugging away from the port and up the Nile.

The afternoon progressed into evening with Skye and her team lounging around the deck, and Hand and her team on the extreme opposite end of the deck with Fitzsimmons hovering nearby. By the time the moon was rising in the desert sky, Trip and Hartley got tired of the three talking Egyptology for hours straight and joined the action/adventure side for drinks and poker. Every so often Jemma heard the sound of Skye whacking Radcliffe with a deck of cards, but on the whole the two halves of the expedition crew were keeping to themselves.

"Y'know, this...this could be the find of the century! Really! Truly! Imagine what could be lurking just below the sands out there, it's truly remarkable. Don't you think, Skye?"

Skye watched with narrowed eyes as Radcliffe gestured emphatically and talked loudly.

"Radcliffe. You're wasted. The find of the century would be you finding your way to your bunk and shutting up for the rest of the night," she dryly said, whacking him with the cards again.

"Ten bucks says he falls overboard," Hartley grinned.

"I will _give_ you _twenty_ bucks if you throw him," Skye offered.

"How about for fifteen I just throw him back in his cabin?" Kara Palamas chimed in.

"Preposterous!" Radcliffe shouted (or at least something that may have been "preposterous" but came out sounding more like "pruh-piss-truss").

Skye tossed the money across the table.

"Go, Kara, go," she urged.

Palamas threw down her cards and pocketed the fifteen bucks, standing from her chair and circling the table to drag Radcliffe to his feet and haul him off.

"Is that dude seriously your partner?" Trip laughed and took a sip of his beer.

"Don't ask me why. I think May herself was drunk when she was writing up the partners list. Unless Sitwell over here did it. He's the paperwork guy."

"I am not just the—" Sitwell puffed up but was interrupted by Hartley.

"Coulson just raves about Melinda May. Gets kind of annoying sometimes," she chuckled.

"And yet we know next to nothing about Coulson. Or the three of you," Sitwell eyed Trip and Hartley before shooting a glance across deck to where Jemma was showing Hand something in one of her books.

"Coulson's no mystery," Trip shook his head. "The man's always been a collector. Has a soft spot for the past and hates the thought that a huge percentage of world history has been lost to thieves and private collectors."

"But you just said Coulson is a collector," Skye pointed out. "His eye never catches anything he wants for himself?"

"Nope," Trip answered simply.

"Hands everything he comes across over to the museums and scholars," Hartley explained.

"Speaking of scholars, what are The Professor and Gilligan up to over there?" Skye looked over her shoulder at Jemma and Fitz.

"Geeking out with Victoria, probably," Hartley smirked.

Skye turned back around and idly swirled around the beer in her bottle.

"So while we're down here crawling through the blazing desert sand and playing Whack-a-Graverobber, what do you do up on Coulson's side?" she questioned of Hartley and Trip.

"Think of us as...detectives," Trip said, spinning the queen of spades around on the table. "All that lost world history I mentioned? We track it down. Keep our ears to the ground, follow a paper trail, bust the black market."

"Busting the black market is the only fun part," Hartley grumbled.

"Huh. Phil Coulson sounds like a saint. No offense to the guy who pays my bills, but I don't exactly believe in saints."

Shield member Davis glanced up from his cards.

"That's Skye language for 'I'm keeping my eye on you'," he said.

"Be my guest," Trip shrugged.

Skye leaned over and checked Davis' watch; it was close to midnight.

Everyone segued back into playing poker again for a while, until Skye started to go bleary-eyed with yawns.

"...Alright. I'm out," she slapped her cards down on the table and took what winnings were hers.

She downed the last of her beer before standing up from the table and announcing she was turning in. The night had cooled off considerably, she noticed it as she shuffled across the deck to the section of the ferry housing the cabins. She also noticed that Hands and Fitzsimmons had apparently disappeared at some point, and they were nowhere to be seen. When she got to the bunks she found the professor's door cracked open just a bit, and stopped to lightly knock.

"Simmons?" she called out.

The door swung open a little with her knock, and she peeked her head inside the room.

"Simmons? You good? Seasick yet?"

But Jemma wasn't in there, the room was empty. Skye was just going to shrug it off and step back out of the cabin, but she caught sight of the ancient map laid out on a table at the foot of the bed. She herself hadn't seen it yet, and curiosity took her further into the room to have a look. The lights were dim, so she had to hunch over the table to get a good studying glimpse at it.

"Whoa, wait...this is—"

Wood creaked and thudded as someone walked past the cabins just then. Skye whirled around and went back out on the side deck.

"Simmons? ...Fitz?"

No one was out there, either. No one and nothing but a trail of wet footprints that definitely wasn't there when she walked up. They went down the length of the deck, past the camel pens, and around the corner.

Skye, being the face-punching gun-toting curse word slinging-scoundrel that she was, wouldn't be caught dead without some sort of weapon on hand.

So she cocked her gun and followed the footprints.

* * *

 

Jemma didn't realize she'd just missed Skye by a handful of seconds and stood confused for a moment outside her cabin, swearing she hadn't left the door open all the way and ascertaining that a breeze must have come by and nudged it open. Nevertheless she sleepily shuffled inside the bunk, where the dim lighting didn't do her tired eyes any favors.

Victoria Hand had been a pleasure to talk to that evening, even if she wasn't the friendliest of sorts. Jemma didn't mind her icy mannerisms or clipped words, all she cared about was having someone else to talk Egypt with. Skye and Shield's ground team, for all the work they did with ancient sites and artifacts, weren't exactly scholarly types. It really passed the time to bounce around a conversation with Fitz and Hand.

But now it was late, and she hoisted a suitcase onto the bed to dig out a set of pajamas (hoping the shabby thing wouldn't collapse under the weight of her luggage). A pair of soft satin pajamas would keep her warm against the night air and keep her cool when the morning began to heat back up, so she changed into those and went to the cabin's little sink to brush her teeth.

She thought about tomorrow, when the ferry would arrive at the drop-off up river around eight in the morning and they'd begin their journey into the desert with the map as their guide. Talking to Victoria Hand got Jemma thinking about all the exciting possibilities of what the map could lead to, and she was eager for morning to come.

Jemma swept her hair aside and stooped over the sink to spit out her toothpaste—and when she straightened back up an arm grabbed her around the neck and pressed the cold steel of a dagger to her throat.

"You should not have come," a man's voice growled in her ear.

The professor didn't know whether to gasp or to scream, and ended up inadvertently combining the two sounds in a very threatened "eep!". There was no mirror in the room to let her see the assailant, and she was completely at the mercy of the man whose dagger could slice her neck and whose burly arm could snap it. She tried not to shake, for she felt the blade against her throat more prominently when she did so, but feeling the blade made her tremble in return, trapping her in a vicious cycle of terror.

"Give me the map, and I will let you live," the man growled again.

"T-the map? I-it's on the table, behind y-you," Jemma stammered.

She hoped the man would let her go to make a grab for the map, but he was smarter than that. He turned around, dragging the professor with him and walking them both over to the table, and the moment he stretched out his free hand for the map was the moment the door was kicked open in a splinter of wood.

"Simmons!"

Two guns at the ready, Skye was there in the doorway, and before anyone had time to react she fired two shots at the attacker. Jemma was freed when he fell backwards and dropped to the floor.

"Skye!" Jemma said her name with immense relief.

"Time to go, English!"

Jemma rushed forward, reflexively grabbing one of her duffel bags off the floor as she did. Skye started running when Jemma met her in the doorway, and the professor blindly followed after.

"The map!" Jemma skidded to a stop halfway down the side deck. "I forgot to get it!"

Before she could even entertain the idea of spinning around on her heels and going back for the map to their expedition site, Skye had holstered one gun to catch her by the arm and pull her along.

"We don't need it, I saw the map. I know exactly where we're going, this mind is like a steel trap."

"Oh, well _that's_ comforting," Jemma skeptically said.

Now that she was out of immediate danger and just in a general sort of danger, Jemma became aware of the sounds of gunfire, shouts, and bedlam echoing from all corners of the ferry.

"What, may I ask, is going on??" she demanded.

Skye didn't answer, she and Jemma had rounded the side of the ferry and found Trip hunkered behind some crates and firing shots at strange men in black robes and hoods like the one that cornered Jemma. He saw the two approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Friends of yours?" he asked Skye.

"Nope. Friends of _yours_?"

"Nope."

"Then that makes them fair game," Skye pulled her second gun out again.

Jemma yelped and ducked for cover as they fired away at two of the invaders, covering her ears over the gunshots.

"Where's Fitz??" she called out to them when there was a break in bullets.

The librarian, to what would surely be no one's surprise, was in the middle of trying to get Nathanson to switch cabins with him when the chaos erupted. His first thought when he heard bullets start flying was not to stay by the trained Shield's side, but to go running for his best friend's room, which was just in sight now.

"Jemma!!" he burst into the cabin, took a quick scan, and saw that she wasn't there. "...Hello, what's this?"

The shot marauder was dragging himself along the floor, inching towards the ancient box that must have fallen from Jemma's bag when she sped out of the room with it.

"Sorry, that's not yours," quick as a flash he zipped over, grabbed the box, and zipped out of the room, leaving the assailant behind to make a break for the main deck.

He saw Skye, Jemma, and Trip in an instant, making a dramatic dive for the cover of the crates.

"Fitz, thank goodness!" Jemma breathed another sigh of relief at his arrival.

"What the bloody hell is happening??" he frantically demanded.

It was a full-on shootout between Shield and the mystery men. The invaders were armed with shotguns and pistols, taking up positions all around the ferry and shooting on sight. Shield had done the same, with Palamas straight-up combat rolling around deck to get a clear shot at those behind cover, Sitwell impressively fighting a shotgun free from a marauder and smacking him across the head with it, and Hartley surprisingly armed to the teeth with throwing knives and seeming to have far too much fun stabbing her way to victory.

A lone bullet suddenly whizzed just above Skye's head and lodged itself into the wall behind her.

"Radcliffe! Either handle the gun like a sober man or don't handle it at all!" she yelled at her partner, a few feet away.

"Aye aye, captain!" Radcliffe drunkenly saluted.

Victoria Hand shot her way over to the three like an expert marksman, shocking the hell out of Fitzsimmons, who never would've imagined the woman was a combat whiz.

"Any bright ideas?" she coldly asked.

"Shoot everyone," Skye said simply, reloading a handgun.

"Including the crew and captain? Because the enemy has already done that for you."

Skye froze mid-reload.

"Are you trying to tell me that no one is driving the boat?"

"Precisely," Hand told her.

"...Okay, change of plans. Shoot everyone, and abandon ship," Skye said.

"What??" Fitzsimmons gasped together.

"Trip, Fitz, I need you guys to clear a path and set the camels loose. Get them overboard, they can make the swim to the shore. We're dead meat if we end up halfway up the Nile without a camel," the Shield leader explained.

"It's basically the very specific version of 'up a creek without a paddle'," Jemma noted.

"Basically," Skye agreed.

"Well, can do," Trip began to creep out from the cover of the crates.

Fitz's face was not that of someone who was on board with this plan.

"Fitz, you stay behind him at all times, got it?" Skye ordered.

"N-no problem..." the librarian meekly nodded.

Trip took off with Fitz on his tail, going in the direction of the cabins and the adjoining camel pen.

"This is quite the predicament we've found ourselves in, yes?" Jemma nervously asked, feeling like she needed to break a silence even though there was certainly no silence among all the gunfire.

"I've had worse," both Hand and Skye said.

Palamas stopped to reload and called out to her fellow Shield over her shoulder.

"How many of these guys are there?"

"Oh shit, you noticed it too?" Skye was hoping the fact that they'd been shooting and shooting and only making a minute amount of progress was just her imagination.

The marauders kept appearing one after the other, and all Skye and her team could do for the next few minutes was hold down the fort.

"Coming through!" Trip shouted somewhere out of sight just seconds before the camels came racing by.

They ran past with incredible speed, Skye couldn't even make a count of them to make sure they'd all gotten loose. They instinctively knew where they needed to go to get to safety, launching themselves over deck and into the Nile before beginning to kick and paddle their way to the nearby shore.

"That's our cue," Skye said. "Everyone head out!"

The Shields shot their way through marauders to get to the guardrail, following the camels' lead and hoisting themselves over into the river.

"Isabelle! Let's go!" Hand got stab-happy Hartley's attention and they went for the guardrail together.

Within seconds the only ones left on the ferry were Skye, Jemma, Fitz, Radcliffe, and Trip, making them dangerously obvious targets for the marauders. They honed in and fired, and bullets went ricocheting around the professor.

"Are we going to die? Tell me we aren't going to die, the next season of Doctor Who hasn't started yet!" Jemma said.

Skye rolled her eyes.

"You'll live to be a complete nerd another day," she assured her.

Trip and Fitz were the next ones to the guardrail.

"Can you swim, buddy?" Trip asked.

"Well of course I can swim! Jemma and I were top of our class!"

"Good."

With no warning he grabbed Fitz by the back of his shirt and hurled him overboard in one swift move. The librarian screamed all the way down until he went silent with a splash.

"See you there," Trip saluted the others and then dove into the river himself.

Shots still rang through the air; Skye, Jemma, and Radcliffe broke into a run for the edge of the ferry.

"Radcliffe! Plan B!" Skye said.

Jemma frowned.

"Plan B? What on earth is Plan B?"

Radcliffe took something loose from the clip of his belt and tossed it to his partner as they ran. Jemma's eyes went wide.

"Is that a—??"

"Hold your breath," Skye pulled the pin from the grenade and chucked it over her shoulder.

A running jump, a sail through the air, a plunge into cool water, and just enough time to swim away before the muffled sound and shockwave of an explosion erupted just a few feet above.

Skye stayed underwater to wait out the rain of fiery debris falling to the river, then broke through the surface and took a deep breath. In the bright light of the nearly full moon she saw the Shields and Coulson's crew already on dry land, Fitz and Trip nearly at the shore, and Radcliffe bobbing clumsily beside her, watching the flaming wreckage of the ferry.

"...Simmons!" she shouted.

Jemma popped up just a second later, pushing the hair out of her eyes. She too caught site of the ferry behind them.

"My books! Oh my goodness, the _map!_ A three thousand year old, perfectly preserved artifact blown to pieces!" she all but sobbed.

"Hoo boy," the Shield leader sighed. "Let's go, Simmons."

Radcliffe and Jemma swam after her.

"Good show, all! Well done! Certainly showed those pilgrim-y chaps a thing or two, eh?" Radcliffe exuberantly said, splashing a totally unnecessary amount in the water.

"Pillaging, Radcliffe. The word you're looking for is pillaging, not pilgrim-y," Skye figured her partner was lucky that she was too busy swimming to smack him.

The trio soon rejoined everyone else on shore, and all of them together looked like they constituted a party of drowned rats. Sitwell was trying and failing to clean the water off his glasses, the effort futile as the bottom of the shirt he wiped at the lenses with was just as wet and no help at all. Burrows was unlacing his boots and comically dumping water out of them, and Kara Palamas was wringing out her jacket.

"...Everyone present and accounted for?" Skye asked.

"Accounted for, not quite present," Fitz raised his hand as Jemma sat down next to him on the sandy ground, both morbidly fixated on the smoldering ferry wreck in the distance.

"There goes the expedition," Trip muttered. "Everything we had, at least."

"My books..." Jemma whined. Fitz sympathetically patted her shoulder.

"We've got nothing!" Radcliffe cackled, still too tipsy to exhibit serious sentiment.

It was true. All that remained was Jemma's lone duffel bag and whatever the team carried in their now-soggy pockets. They all stood and sat there on the riverbank in silence, even the fact that Shield was used to such little adventures in gunfights and explosions didn't stop them from experiencing a brief moment of disillusioned "what the hell just happened here?".

"...We're about eight hours up the Nile, aren't we?" Hartley suddenly spoke up. "With the ferry going nearly thirty miles and hour, and us on the..."

She paused to look up at the sky, at something in the moon and the stars.

"...East bank," she continued. "...If I remember right, there should be a village near here, about an hour and a half's ride on camelback."

Hand raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive, Isabelle."

"I have many skills."

"You heard the lady. Everyone grab a camel," Skye said. "Sitwell, ride with Radcliffe so his ass doesn't fall headfirst into the sand."

"Jolly good!" Radcliffe squeaked.

"You're Scottish, Rad. Not British," Palamas said as she hoisted herself onto a camel.

"Who can tell the difference nowadays, eh?" Fitz joked. "And on another note, Skye, I don't fancy the camels and I getting on very well."

"So ride with Trip."

Fitz grumbled and stood up, shuffling over to Trip and disliking the smell of wet camel even more than he disliked the smell of regular camel.

Hartley and Hand rode together, as did Burrows and Davis, leaving a few spare camels that Skye gently pulled along by the reigns to tie them to her own and keep them walking with the rest of the caravan. Hartley took the lead, knowing the way and riding her camel to the front of the company. Without a word the others started right behind her, beginning their travels through the desert on a different note than any of them had planned.

"Simmons, come on," Skye said.

Jemma was still parked on the ground, watching flames dim as they sank beneath the water.

"...Not at all the expedition I was counting on," she glumly muttered.

"Yeah, well, that's what makes it less of an expedition and more of an adventure."

"Yes, quite the adventure, stranded in the middle of the desert in soaking wet pajamas," the professor dryly chuckled.

"With...little pink kittens on them, I see," with the chaos over, Skye took note of Jemma's attire and had to stifle a laugh. "Hey, cats are sacred here in Egypt. Maybe you're good luck."

Jemma got to her feet and joined Skye, who gave her a boost and helped her onto the back of the camel, then climbed up herself and took the reigns.

"Look at it this way—you'll be the coolest teacher ever when you get back to Cairo University."

Skye shook the reigns and got the camel walking. Jemma's giggle echoed into the night.


	6. Into the Sands

They reached the village in the dead of night, chilled, soaking, and uncomfortable. The village was far from caught up to the modern age out in the middle of the desert, but there was a fire and dry clothes, which was really all the crew was looking for at the moment. Practically all the villagers knew Hartley by name, which according to her was the end result of a very long story that she would not be telling anytime soon, but Shield and Fitzsimmons couldn't care less about the details when there was a warm, roaring fire in front of them.

Any friends of Hartley's were friends of the village, and the team was given a place to sleep the rest of the night away, along with food and supplies upon getting ready to undertake their journey again in the morning.

The sun was still low in the sky when the caravan of camels began to trek away from the village and back into the desert with their riders atop them, each loaded with the bags of supplies from the village.

"Well, where do we go from here?" Hand asked with stern eyes. "We lost the map back on the ferry. I for one am not keen on getting lost in the desert."

"We're not getting lost in the desert," Skye looked over her shoulder and past Jemma sitting behind her to frown at Hand. "I know where we need to go. I saw the map before we lost it, and I saw where it leads. Radcliffe and I have been there before."

"...Sorry, we have?" hours later, Radcliffe was now sober enough to ride his own camel without supervision.

"Just a week ago, on our last mission."

The memory came back to him of the mission, the tomb raiders, and Skye annihilating them on a motorcycle.

"That place?" he said incredulously. "That place was nothing more than a ruin, a crumbling necropolis. There was nothing there worth drawing a map over."

"There must have been!" Jemma said excitedly, her scholarly intrigue kicking in. "Now, tell me, did either of you spot anything of interest there?"

"Radcliffe is right, Simmons. It's just a ruin," Skye explained. "Unless you count broken pillars and collapsed walls as interesting."

"This is Egypt, Skye. What you see on the surface tells nothing of what's hidden beneath the sand."

"Kind of like you?" the Shield leader smirked.

Jemma's cheeks turned red.

"You and Radcliffe had our Shield tech leading the way the last time," Burrows spoke up. "You think you can find your way back without it?"

"Look, I'm no Fitzsimmons, but I'm more than just a pretty face and a badass left hook," Skye sounded offended.

"Any chance Hartley has more village pals where we can stop and ask directions?" Fitz dryly questioned, idly keeping his hands busy while Trip had the reigns by turning over the ancient box that started it all again and again.

"Oh Fitz, have some faith," Jemma scolded. "It'll be an adventure! Isn't that right, Skye?"

Skye smiled, her eyes trained straight ahead at the vast desert before them.

"That's right, Simmons."

* * *

Dunes of deep, golden yellows and majestic cliffs of brown and orange were all the eye could see for hours upon hours, stretching out endlessly in every direction. Shield was used to it, if not a bit bored by it, but Jemma and Fitz—who even on their own digs had never gone far enough to leave the Cairo skyline out of their sights—were lost in a marveling daze at the desert around them.

"It's beautiful," Jemma breathed for about the hundredth time.

Skye frowned as she glanced from side to side.

"It's sand," she flatly said.

"No, it's so much more than that," Jemma had a wistful smile on her face. She giggled then. "Sometimes I can't believe this is my life. Exploring, discovering, stepping back into history and then turning around to make it."

"Living the dream, huh?"

"Absolutely. Ever since I was a little girl. Fitz was my only friend growing up, you know, but before he came along I kept myself company with my books. Books on anything and everything, no subject was out of reach. I'd read about animals, outer space, insects, dinosaurs, weather, geography...but what I read about most was Ancient Egypt. To this day I couldn't tell you what drew me to it time and time again, but whatever the reason I was simply fascinated. Oh, but listen to me, prattling on and on."

The professor shyly laughed.

"I don't mind," Skye assured her. "It's not like we have anything else to do but talk."

It was true, the march through the desert was slow and uneventful, and behind Skye and Jemma's camel the whole team was engaged in quiet conversation here and there.

"Well, what about you then?" Jemma asked Skye.

"What about me?"

"How did you find yourself in this rather unique line of work?"

"Accidentally," Skye chuckled. "May found me when I was in desperate need of rent money and probably would've agreed to whatever whacky scheme she threw at me."

Jemma's silence was a sign that she was waiting on a more elaborate explanation, but Skye didn't feel there was anything more to tell.

It really was an incredible sight to see, nothing but pure, unspoiled scenery stretching all the way to the horizon and not one sign of civilization. Fitz and Jemma had never seen anything like it before, and they truly were content with just sitting astride the camels and watching the desert endlessly creep by.

Night fell, and conversation started to lull with the darkness. Fitz, less impressed with and more wary of the desert now that it was covered with the veil of night, flipped the script and now picked up conversation with Trip and anyone else he could get to join in for a moment or two, trying to make the shadowed emptiness around him a little less oppressive.

Skye was looking up at the stars to double check they were still heading in the right direction when she felt a soft thud against her back and heard the light sounds of Jemma snoring right after. Her reputation as a badass typically counted on _not_ being used as a pillow, but having the tired professor unknowingly rest against her was essentially the same as having a kitten fall asleep in your lap—you didn't dare move no matter what the circumstances.

And that's where Jemma stayed until dawn was just beginning to break, when the camel slowly came to a stop and the sudden absence of movement jolted her awake.

"We're here," Skye pretended nothing had happened.

"Oh, already? Well, um, good. Very good," Jemma yawned and pretended nothing had happened too, only not as well.

The rest of the Shield caravan drew their camels beside and around Skye's, looking into the distance where the ruined necropolis complex rose from the sand like the ancient ghost town that it was.

"The map led to there?" Hartley asked.

"Yep. Coulson and May were a few days too late in their worrying about tomb raiders."

"And what if more raiders have returned to grab what they couldn't get the first time?" Hand wondered.

"Oh no, Skye saw to it that _that_ won't be happening again," Radcliffe grinned.

Hartley pulled out a telescope to scan the distant ruins.

"Looks all clear," she announced.

Trip looked around at the rest of the crew.

"Let's see who can get there first," he impishly suggested.

Hand frowned at him.

"You want to race, Triplett? What are you, five?" she disapproved.

"He is so on, that's what he is," Hartley dismissed Hand's scolding and tightened her grip on their camel's reigns, getting ready.

"Sorry, don't I get a say in this?" Fitz piped up from the passenger seat.

"No way buddy, you're just along for the ride," Trip shook his head.

"And I suppose the winner is just going to have to settle for bragging rights?" Palamas questioned.

"Winner gets dibs on the biggest tent," Hartley clarified.

Trip looked to Skye.

"What do you say, boss?"

"What do I say? I say eat my sand."

With no warning she snapped the reigns and the camel kicked into high gear, taking off like a shot towards the ruins. The thundering of hooves was right on their tail as the rest of the crew broke their camels into a run as well, and the race was on. Jemma lurched forward with a little scream and clung tightly to Skye to keep from falling off as the camel sped faster and faster in a short burst of momentum, the hot desert air rushing past her face.

Over the hooves and the wind she could hear a frantic "Bloody hell! Slow down!" from Fitz and the cackling of someone who was having far too good a time from Hartley. All around her were the snapping of reigns and eager "yah!"s as the Shields urged their camels onwards. Jemma bravely peeked up in time to see the complex just yards away, before burying her face against Skye's shoulder to avoid the reality of just how fast they were going. Moments later the camel slowed to a trot, then a stop, and Skye's victorious "Woo hoo!" echoed through the ancient ruins.

* * *

First thing first was to set up camp, and there was plenty of open space for the tents near the heart of the necropolis. Hand, unconvinced that the threat of new tomb raiders was non-existent, ordered there to be a lookout stationed near the entrance at night and when the excavation began to get underway.

Fitz and Jemma were like kids in a candy shop. The lone, oversized duffel bag that Jemma managed to save from the ferry was full of her archaeological tools and equipment, and it was with dried off notebooks of slightly wrinkled paper that the pair trekked around the entire site, taking down notes and observations.

"So what do you think?" Fitz was saying. "Is it safe to assume this location dates back to the 4th Dynasty?"

Jemma was closely studying the crumbling architecture all around her.

"Well, the way this is all laid out reminds me a bit of the Abu Sir necropolis of the 5th Dynasty," she said.

"But structurally, construction at Abu Sir was of very poor quality compared to 4th Dynasty sites."

"Precisely, at a glance the construction of these ruins appears to match the quality of stone and craftsmanship of the Giza Complex."

"Which is 4th Dynasty. Not to mention the pyramids of Giza are the tombs of the royal family Pharaoh Djedefre hailed from."

Palamas walked by just then, carrying survey flags from Jemma's duffel.

"You two really are nerds," she said as she passed.

"Oh, speaking of, where's Hand? I'd love to get her input," Jemma turned around and around, trying to spot the woman.

"Busy barking orders," Fitz said, looking down at his notebook to copy a series of hieroglyphs inscribed on a pillar. "I wish we'd thought to grab more from the ferry, we lost all our photography equipment."

"Not to worry, I'm sure this is just step one of many. We'll do what we can for now and return to Cairo to resupply and make several more trips to the site."

Burrows walked by as well, toting even more survey flags along.

"You're in the big leagues now, the work you do here can't be done in an afternoon," he smirked.

"He's right, Fitz. This is a proper excavation, sure to take weeks or even months. Our first real dig!" Jemma's eyes shone.

"Fitz! Where do you want these flags set up?" Burrows called out, a few feet away.

"Be right back," the librarian said to Jemma.

Jemma flipped the page in her notebook and scribbled down more preliminary notes.

"Mhm," she distractedly muttered.

Fitz wandered off with Burrows, leaving Jemma to herself for a bit.

"...So tell me, Professor Simmons, is it everything you've ever dreamed of?"

Skye was there to tease her just minutes later, dusting off her trademark hat and setting it atop her head. Jemma smiled.

"It's everything and so much more," she gushed.

"Come with me. I want to show you something."

Jemma brought her notebook along and followed without a word after Skye, who led her all the way across the entire complex until they were outside of the ruins entirely and at the crest of a sand dune.

"Careful on the way down," Skye warned, gingerly stepping her way down the hill.

Jemma listened, clutching her notebook to her chest with one hand and sticking her other arm out for balance. She slipped and wobbled, but made it to the bottom in one piece and joined Skye at her side.

"...My _goodness_ ," the professor breathed.

A statue of Anubis towered high despite being sunken halfway into the sand, and its weathered and crumbly facade gave no trace of the vivid opulence of colors it was once painted in.

"This is where I was when I found the box," Skye said.

"I see..." Jemma frantically flipped to a brand new page and began to circle the statue. "Wait a minute...now that is very odd."

"What is?"

Jemma didn't seem to hear her, and continued her pacing around the statue with a frown furrowed deeply into her face.

"Simmons?" Skye prodded again.

That one got the professor's attention.

"In Ancient Egyptian art, Anubis was one of the most commonly depicted deities, but being the god of mummification, his likeness is mainly limited to the tombs of the dead, in paintings on the walls or statuettes in funerary chambers."

"So?" Skye didn't follow. "This is a necropolis. Odds are we're standing right above a tomb. Anubis doesn't seem so out of place."

"No, you don't understand," Jemma's eyes were wide. "I have never, ever seen or even heard of a statue of Anubis this incredibly massive before."

She was right, Skye didn't understand. To her it was just a big statue. Big statue, big deal. But what she did understand was the graveness of Jemma's tone, the underlying "something isn't right here" in her words.

"...Maybe it's an important tomb," she lamely offered, failing to find something else to say.

Jemma gasped.

"Good lord!!"

"What now??"

The professor pointed. The bottom half of the statue was buried, but upon closer inspection one could just make out the very top of its thighs and get a sense of how the lower body was posed.

"Anubis' legs...it looks as if the right foot is positioned out in front," Jemma answered with shock in her eyes.

"Simmons, I'm a high school dropout. You're gonna have to dumb the mythology down for me."

"Statues of Ancient Egypt, whether of gods or mortals, are often posed with their left foot leading in front of the right. It symbolizes taking your heart from the left side of your chest and presenting it to the Pharaoh as a sign of loyalty," Jemma hurriedly explained.

Skye was only following slightly more.

"So if this does mark a tomb, whoever's buried in it wasn't loyal to the Pharaoh," she attempted to finish Jemma's train of thought.

"Or whoever carved the statue wasn't loyal to—good lord!!"

"You said that already."

Jemma's expression appeared to give all the telltale signs that her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour.

"Fitz told this silly legend to my class just days before this whole business with you and the box and the map started," Jemma began. "You know of Pharaoh Djedefre?"

"High school dropout."

"We talked about him at the prison!"

"Oh yeah, that guy."

" _Anyway_ ," Jemma quickly got back on track. "Djedefre was your ordinary Pharaoh. Ruled, died, entombed at Abu Rawash, the site of his choosing. But in Fitz's story, the pharaoh was a cruel, vindictive ruler of Egypt who murdered his own brother to assure his ascension to the throne. He was like a scourge to the people of Egypt, and was in turn murdered by his own high priests and cursed body and soul so that he may never enter the afterlife and find peace."

"Whoa, I'm not watching a woman of science suddenly turn superstitious on me, am I?" Skye asked.

"Believe me, I was the first one to tell Fitz it was all a load of rubbish, but the story, you finding the box by this unusual Anubis, the map inside bearing Djedefre's seal and leading right back here...no, I'm not saying I'm suddenly superstitious, but as far as coincidences go, it's a frightful one," the professor explained.

Skye didn't mention how on that very spot she'd fallen victim to whispering voices in the wind and a sandstorm with a personal vendetta; in fact, ever since that day she'd been trying very hard to tell herself she just spent way too long out in the Egyptian sun, that's all.

"I guess this is a hot spot then," she said instead. "We'll split the crew up to different parts of the site and you and Fitz should definitely excavate around here."

"With you, of course."

Skye was honestly a bit surprised at how quickly it was automatically assumed that she'd stick with Fitzsimmons, but she played her surprise off well.

"I'm not doing any nerd digging until I've had a nap," she laughed. "I was leading the way here all night long and didn't have a chance to get any shut-eye."

Talking about it suddenly made her body hyperaware of just how long she'd been awake, and a yawn overtook her.

"...I suppose my falling asleep on you didn't do you any favors either," Jemma said with a shy, apologetic smile.

"No big deal," Skye shrugged. "It was my job to make sure we didn't get eternally lost in the desert, so it's not like I had time to sleep anyway."

"Even still, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I won the big tent fair and square, I intend to take advantage of it. See you in about an hour."

The Shield leader got her footing and started back up the slope of the sand dune.

"And it's not like anyone could've slept with all that snoring," she teasingly threw in at the last minute.

"I do not snore!"

"You better watch that, Simmons. I think Egypt might take the phrase 'loud enough to wake the dead' pretty seriously around here."

"Skye!!"

Skye just cackled and raced up the hill, knowing without even looking that the professor was puffing up and going all red in the face.

She wasn't wrong, but the one thing she'd missed on the girl's flustered expression was how it slowly melted into a smile and a shining twinkle in the eye.


	7. Tunnel Vision

Jemma actually squealed with delight after descending into the underground beneath the ruins, a sound which accidentally set off Skye's spy-like reflexes and had her yanking her gun out in two seconds flat, before putting it back in its holster with a roll of the eyes and Jemma's apologetic smile.

"Don't _do_ that," Skye breathlessly warned, straightening her hat on her head.

"I'm sorry, but just look at this!" Jemma spread her arms wide to gesture to the vast chamber around them.

What Skye and her Shield team didn't discover on their last mission to this place was that the ruins were dotted with entrances and openings to the complex of catacombs that lay just beneath the entirety of the ancient site. Skye and her current Shield team split up to begin exploring the underground of the necropolis. She—no surprise—accompanied Fitz and Simmons through an almost claustrophobically small opening Jemma discovered at the base of the Anubis statue, Hand took Coulson's crew through a passage at the north of the ruins, and while Nathanson and Burrows took up guard duty at the necropolis entrance, Skye reluctantly put Radcliffe in charge of leading the other Shields deep into the ruins through a stone door carved into a crumbled section of a long-forgotten structure on the surface of the complex.

"What's with the trigger finger?" Fitz questioned. "What exactly are you expecting to find down here?"

"I'm not expecting to find anything," Skye answered. "And that's usually when something ends up being found."

The three were all equipped with lanterns, courtesy of Hartley's village rendezvous, and while Skye would've preferred a high-powered flashlight, the lanterns did their jobs satisfactorily. After some time to take it all in, Fitzsimmons had their notebooks out, scurrying around the room and writing by the light of the lanterns. Skye, fulfilling her duty of overpaid babysitter, merely parked herself on a crumbling stone and watched the two work.

"So what are _you_ expecting to find down here?" she asked Fitzsimmons.

"Well, like you, we aren't expecting to find anything," Jemma answered. "This is an unexplored ruin, we're here on behalf of academia, documenting everything we can for the archaeological community."

"It's cute when you act like I understand your nerd motives."

Jemma, catching a glimpse of Skye's wry grin after hearing the words "it's cute" pass through her lips, had to turn and intensely study a wall to hide the red on her cheeks.

"Jemma, come take a look at this," Fitz said from across the room.

She hurried to his side, glancing around eagerly for whatever it was he'd found.

"I told you not to think about it," Fitz whispered.

The professor's face fell when she realized her friend didn't actually have anything to show her.

"Think about what?" she asked.

"Skye."

"Wha—? Oh, pfft, _please_ , I am not thinking about Skye," Jemma laughed the librarian off, not at all convincingly.

And not at all convinced, Fitz just stared at her with a knowing, narrowed gaze.

"What?" Jemma repeated. "Alright, look, she's highly... _highly_ attractive, and I have eyes. That's all there is to it. And yes, maybe she's a bit mysterious and intriguing, certainly adventurous, and 'dashing' wouldn't be the wrong word to describe her either, but—"

"I will not have you desecrating this worksite with your swoony heart-eyes," Fitz interrupted.

"Please, Fitz. I am British. We only make heart-eyes at tea and The Beatles."

Deciding that was that, Jemma went back to examining every nook and cranny of the chamber around them.

"I think the first order of business is to figure out what exactly this complex was to the Pharaoh," Jemma said after a while. "What made this place important enough to warrant a secret map leading to it?"

"Party villa. Ancient Egyptian speakeasy," Skye chimed in.

Jemma rolled her eyes.

"You were a high school dropout yet you know of speakeasies?" she questioned.

"Only because there's alcohol involved."

Fitz shook his head.

"Typical American..." he muttered. "Jemma, these ruins are massive, both above ground and under. We can't possibly do anything more than a quick once-over with as little crew and as little equipment as we've got."

"I know Fitz, but we won't get a larger crew and more equipment unless the university believes there's something of merit here. This quick once-over is necessary."

"And what exactly will make the university think this place is worthwhile?" Skye asked.

"Well, just like your Shield believes, a hoard of treasure wouldn't be a bad start," the professor answered.

"In lieu of that, objects of historical importance, evidence of significant human interaction at this site, hell, an unopened tomb or two would certainly merit us credit," Fitz elaborated.

Skye lifted her lantern to the walls, having a look at the paintings and hieroglyphs they were adorned with.

"And what are the chances of dragging a tomb back to Cairo?" she wondered. "Sure, we're standing in the middle of a necropolis, but graverobbers have been picking the desert clean for over a century and well before Shield was ever created. Odds are we're looking at a whole lot of nothing."

"There's always something," Jemma firmly said, refusing to have her explorative spirits dampened. "Positive thinking, Skye."

"Yes, be positive we'll find a dried up and nightmarish mummified corpse," Fitz teased the Shield.

"I'll try," Skye muttered.

"Well, you're the expert," Fitz pointed out as he continued to make his rounds. "Any signs that this place has already been hit by graverobbers from way back when?"

"That whole lot of nothing I mentioned is typically your first sign."

The professor and the librarian spent the next ten or so minutes observing and studying everything they could, from hieroglyphs to the interior architecture to even what kind of stone and rock lined the chamber. Skye was having her own look around, and discovered something hidden in the shadows only when her lantern came close enough to it.

"Fitzsimmons, here's a passageway," she called out.

The two came scurrying over.

"Well, would you look at that?" Jemma said with a smile, peeking over Skye's shoulder to see the narrow corridor looming in front of them. "Maybe if we're lucky we'll find that the entire underground is connected."

Skye glanced at Fitzsimmons, waiting for them to take the lead. They glanced right back at her, and then down the corridor, pitch black and god knows how long. The Shield let out a sigh.

"Fine, I'll go first, you big babies," lantern out in front of her, Skye started into the passageway.

There was nothing to see here, just slabs of stone walls and floors flooded with sand. A lot of cobwebs dangling as well, and an all-around musty, earthen smell.

It hit Jemma once more that she was really here, exploring Ancient Egypt, and she couldn't stop herself from squealing again. Likewise, Skye couldn't stop herself from grabbing her gun again.

"Sorry!" the professor quickly apologized.

"...Simmons, you're a nice girl. You're a really nice girl. I would hate to have to accidentally shoot you," Skye tensely holstered her gun.

"Truly, so sorry. I'll try to reign it in next time."

The passageway they walked turned into a second, a third, a fourth, and all the while Fitz kept careful mental note of which way they were going so they wouldn't inadvertently end up lost beneath the sands forever and for all time. The fourth passage was particularly long, and finally opened up into a corridor leading to the right, and a corridor leading to the left.

"Uh oh," Fitz said.

"Huh," Skye looked down both passageways, and shrugged. "Well, looks like there's only one thing to do. Simmons and I will take the left, and Fitz, you take the right."

"I'm sorry, what??" he stammered.

" _Kidding_ , bookworm," Skye clarified, making the decision herself to lead them down the left passage.

"...It's simply incredible, thinking about how the Ancient Egyptians constructed all of this," Jemma marveled.

"Aliens helped them," Skye said.

"Oh, please," Fitz grumbled. "Anyone who holds on to that ancient aliens theory is forgetting that the Egyptians were people in a land with no tvs or cellphones and not much else to do with their time."

"Sorry, Grandpa. I didn't know how things were back in your day," Skye nudged Jemma, and the two girls giggled together.

"But really though, he does have a point," Jemma went on after her laughter subsided. "There are people who find the sheer architectural precision and mathematical accuracy that the Egyptians constructed their greatest monuments with far too advanced for their culture, and automatically jump to alien intervention. But Fitz is right, without our modern luxuries around to take up their days, ancient civilizations had a lot of spare time on their hands. With nothing to do out in the desert but study art and science, of course the Egyptians would eventually reach the precision and skill needed for things like the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx."

Skye contemplated that for a bit.

"Sounds a lot more believable when you say it," she noted.

"That's why I'm the Egyptology professor."

This corridor was a long trip as well, and just when the trio was beginning to entertain ideas of it never ending, they came to a door. A rounded arch slab of weathered brown stone cut into the wall, every square inch of it carved with lines of hieroglyphs. Jemma inched her way to the front to have a look.

"Incredible..." she breathed.

Skye moved beside her and held her lantern up.

"My goodness Fitz, look at this," Jemma said.

Fitz edged his way up to Jemma, smushing the three of them close together in the small space in front of the door. Jemma pointed to where certain symbols or groups of symbols had been chiseled out entirely.

"Words had powers in Ancient Egypt," Jemma explained for Skye's benefit. "Someone scratching out a word means someone was trying to contain the power of that word."

Skye eyed the door in front of them with a suspicious, wary stare.

"So what exactly are we about to walk into here?" she asked.

"Skye, there's no need to be superstitious," Fitz assured her. "Besides, it looks like we won't be walking into anything."

Now it was his turn to point at what appeared to be a huge lock built squarely into the door's face. It reminded Skye of a child's shape sorter toy, a kind of puzzle where just the right piece had to be inserted to make the cut.

"And me without any dynamite," Skye shook her head like it was a damn shame.

Fitz and Simmons looked equally horrified.

"We are not _blasting_ away a millennia's worth of architecture," Fitz quickly denied.

"You two just can't take any jokes, can you?" Skye frowned.

Jemma nudged her out of the way so she could crouch down and have a good look at the puzzle-like lock. The shape carved into it was that of some sort of asymmetrical, eight-sided star. She swore this shape in particular looked familiar to her.

"We could always backtrack and check out the other corridor," Skye suggested, pointing a thumb behind her.

"We can't just give up that easily," Jemma scolded. "A professional at anything goes through their obstacles, not around them. Don't you have a crowbar?"

Skye grudgingly reached into the bag of equipment slung around her shoulder and did indeed pull out a crowbar.

"Clear the way, people," she said, before jamming the crowbar into the thin gap of space where door met wall.

She pushed and tugged with all her strength, and even with the addition of a second crowbar and Fitz's assistance (which really wasn't much of a help at all with his librarian's musculature), the door wouldn't budge. Skye gave up after minutes of struggling, lowering her crowbar.

"It's no use. We're not getting in here without a key," she said. "A key we don't have."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Fitz interrupted. He was taking a good look at the lock too. "I've seen this shape somewhere before."

"I thought the same thing!" Jemma told him. "Now think, where else could we have seen this?"

The two puzzled silently over it. Skye just waited.

"Fitzsimmons, call me crazy, but this kind of looks like..."

It hit Jemma before Skye even had a chance to say it.

"The box!" she realized. "The stone box, when it's opened, that's the shape it takes...and we lost it at the bottom of the Nile along with the map and the ferry..."

"I wouldn't say that," Fitz started to dig around in his own bag.

Jemma's eyes were wide with anticipation.

"...Fitz, you didn't."

He pulled out the ancient box and key with a triumphant smile.

"Didn't I?"

Jemma squealed for a third time, bouncing up and down, and Skye only half-reached for her gun this time around.

"If you'd be so kind as to do the honors, Jemma," Fitz handed the box over to his best friend.

She just stood and held it for a while, looking back and forth between the key and the door it would open.

"...Do you realize this door likely hasn't been opened in over four thousand years?" she asked the other two. "Perhaps no graverobbers or tomb raiders got here before us, we may be the first people to set foot beyond this door since the Ancient Egyptians locked it in the first place. And you can just bet that whatever's behind here, treasure or otherwise, will be just the archaeological finding we were looking for!"

Skye couldn't help but find herself smiling at Jemma's dorky excitement. The professor's enthusiasm was contagious.

"So what are we waiting for?" she questioned lightheartedly. "Open it up, Simmons."

Without further ado Jemma pushed the bottom of the box, springing it open into its eight-sided star shape. The top fit perfectly into the lock, and not quite knowing what to do next, she gave it a few turns in both directions like you would any old key. Suddenly there was a click, a whirring of some ancient mechanism, then a grating of stone against stone and a shower of sand and dust as the slab of door swung slowly inward, opening up the way for them to continue.

No lanterns were needed here, for the chamber in front of them was aglow with torches that suddenly sprang to life with flames the moment the door came to a stop.

"...Alright, that was weird," Skye wasn't shy about saying.

"Extremely," Fitzsimmons said together.

The Shield raised her hand.

"I have a $10 in my pocket. Who wants to bet we just got ourselves majorly cursed?"

Fitz was staring into the chamber in a bit of an awed daze.

"I don't feel particularly cursed, but I'll hold onto your offer."

"Good man."

Still leading the way, Skye took them into the chamber.

It was nothing like the rest of the ruins they'd already explored.

Walls ornately painted, torches bursting with light, statues of an Ancient Egyptian God standing watch like sentinels, a stone pedestal in the center of the floor, and the whole room in a relatively pristine state, like time and sand had barely even touched it for those 4,000 years. The trio stood there gaping like fish.

"...Like I was saying before, what exactly did we walk into here?" Skye questioned.

"Looks a bit like a shrine, doesn't it?" Fitz mused. "Part of a temple of some sort."

Skye broke away from the other two to study the statues. Four of them, at each corner of the room; the body of a man with the head of some animal with a long, tapered snout and tall, oddly shaped ears.

"Who's this supposed to be? Anubis?" she asked.

Jemma came up beside her and had a look.

"Um...no, that would be Set, god of chaos and evil," she timidly said.

"And this would be Set plastered all over the walls as well," Fitz gestured to where various depictions of the god dotted the art that covered the walls.

"...Okay, so let me get this straight," Skye began. "We just stumbled into a _shrine_ to the god of _evil_."

Now Fitz raised his hand.

"I'll take you up on that getting-ourselves-majorly-cursed bet now," he said.

"Come on you two, don't be ridiculous," Jemma scolded. "Many Egyptian deities have several conflicting histories and backstories. Yes, Set is more popularly known as the lord of evil, but there's also an incarnation of him that traveled with the sun god Ra through the underworld every night, protecting him from the snake deity Apep and ensuring that Ra would return to the world safe and sound and that the sun would continue to rise day after day."

"That's sweet Simmons, but I don't like the way this guy is looking at me," Skye backed away from the cold stone gaze of the looming statue.

Fitz pulled his notebook out, as did Jemma.

"Well, at any rate, it needs investigating," the librarian said.

"You two investigate, I'll bodyguard," Skye drew both of her handguns from their holsters.

"Just don't shoot anything important," Fitz warned.

It took Fitzsimmons nearly forty minutes to scour that one room. They'd jot quick notes, copy hieroglyphs, make little doodles (which Jemma insisted were scientific), mumble to themselves, mumble to each other, drift around Skye without even really seeing her as they went from corner to corner—at one point they just parked themselves right on the ground and spoke Egyptology to each other while a bored Skye twirled her gun around her finger. After what seemed like forever the notebooks shut, and Jemma suggested they head back above ground to check in with the rest of the crew before they went and explored the other corridor they'd left untouched.

So it was back through the passageways, through the dust and dark, and back up to the surface world. The three of them blinked a little in the bright desert sun when they emerged from the opening in the Anubis statue that took them below in the first place. Skye took off her hat and wafted the dust and sand off of it, taking a look at Jemma in the light as she did so.

"Simmons, come here a sec."

The professor stepped in front of her, curiosity on her face.

"You've got a little..." Skye brushed the grit from Jemma's shoulders and off the top of her head. "It...uh, it gets messy underground."

"Yes...thank you," Jemma's smile was shy yet bright.

"Bloody hell," Fitz whispered under his breath.

They made their way from the statue and back to the center of the complex where they'd all set up their base camp. To the trio's surprise, the rest of the Shields were all coming back to base at the same time. Everyone sat among the tents and made themselves comfortable, digging up water bottles and finding shade. Skye laid back across a fallen pillar, letting her hat dangle from her fingertips.

"Productive day?" Radcliffe asked, sitting cross-legged in the sand.

"More productive than yours," Skye's default setting was to give her partner a hard time.

"You're not wrong there," Palamas agreed. "We went through a maze of tunnels and didn't find a damn thing."

"Unless you count sand and stone," Radcliffe added.

Seeing everyone else gathering, Burrows and Nathanson abandoned their guard duty posts to join in.

"What about you, Skye?" Palamas asked. "You take the Wonder Twins on an adventure?"

"Oh yeah, found ourselves a whole shrine of evil," Skye lazily said, closing her eyes in the sun's rays.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hand questioned, cleaning her glasses.

"We found a room that, admittedly, does look like a shrine, with effigies of Set all around it," Jemma explained with a shine in her eyes.

"That can't be good," Trip said. "Isn't that guy like the bad of all bad in Egyptian mythology?"

"How about that, Vic? You probably missed out on a good old-fashioned curse," Hartley elbowed Hand, who rolled her eyes.

"I thought you outgrew calling me Vic years ago," she muttered.

"It's the curse. You've got bad luck now."

"Surely you three don't believe in curses," Jemma said.

"Nah, we're just messin'," Trip smiled like a mischievous little boy.

"What about you, Hand? Find anything in the north ruins?" Fitz wondered.

Trip, Hand, and Hartley all exchanged knowing, almost sly looks with each other.

"You could say that," Hartley grinned.

"Well? What is it? What did you find?" Jemma's curious excitement got the better of her, she was practically bouncing in place.

Trip still had his mischievous smile, sitting on a secret that he couldn't wait to tell.

"We went and found ourselves a mummy."


	8. Discovery

"A sarcophagus! With a preserved mummy inside! The sheer amount of luck and chance it would take for _us_ to find our way to these ruins and discover a real live mummy!" Jemma went on, and on, and on.

"I know I'm not the professor here, but I think 'real live mummy' is kind of an oxymoron," Skye said.

After a short reprieve at base camp, the crew now followed as Hand and her two partners led the way to the north of the ruins, where an ancient sarcophagus laid in wait below the sands.

"One would think 'Why Jemma, surely all the mummies of Egypt would have been discovered by now', but no!" the professor continued exuberantly. "Just November of last year a New Kingdom mummy was discovered in the Valley of the Kings!"

"I believe it," Skye said. "The sands out here have been shifting and changing things for a long time. I don't think anyone will ever discover everything it's hidden."

"Tragically beautiful, isn't it? That our search for ancient knowledge and our journeys through history may never truly be completed? ...Oh, listen to me. I'm just droning on and on, aren't I? Sorry about that," Jemma apologized.

But Skye didn't need an apology.

"Don't be sorry for something you're passionate about, Simmons. I may not understand what the hell you're talking about 80% of the time, but I could probably listen to you all day."

Jemma looked over at her with wide, innocent eyes.

"You could?"

"Well! A mummy! Exciting stuff, that," Fitz wedged his way in between Skye and Jemma, deciding that spot would be the most perfect place to walk. "I'm certainly excited, wouldn't you say you're excited, Jemma?"

Jemma had known that boy for more than half her life and wasn't fooled for a second.

"Yes, it's exciting. Positively thrilling, Fitz. Maybe you should go on ahead and walk with Trip, get a glimpse of that sarcophagus before any of the rest of us."

"Nah, I'm good here."

He wouldn't budge, but it was really no matter, for they'd already come to the passage that Coulson's crew had followed into the ruins.

"Last chance if anyone wants to skip out on the trip," Hand turned around to announce. "It's a long way to the sarcophagus and 'accommodating' is nowhere near the right word to describe these tunnels."

Radcliffe, thinking it over and deciding he'd had his fill of scurrying around the dank and dark, tried to silently turn tail. Skye reached around and caught him by the collar without even looking, shutting him down where he stood.

Hand wasn't exaggerating about the non-accommodating tunnels, and the majority of the journey underground consisted of them having to crawl through the passages on all fours, pushing their lanterns out in front of them to have their hands free as they went. They were lucky enough to go without anyone being overcome by a bout of claustrophobia, but even still it was definitely no fun trudging through the long, winding spaces no bigger than an air vent.

Hartley, leading the way far up the passage, finally called out that they were reaching the end and that the tunnel would drop off suddenly into the chamber they were aiming for. It was a short four foot drop into the room; Skye tumbled out and then turned to help Jemma, taking her hand and lowering her gently to the ground.

"Thank you, Skye!" the professor said brightly.

"No problem."

The rest of the crew came spilling out one by one like riders in a clown car, it was a rather amusing sight to see. They were in an antechamber now, collapsed in on itself in places and apparently untouched by the ancient decorators. No artwork or artifacts here, just more endless stone tunnels in three directions for as far as their lanterns would light up.

"Looks more like a broom closet," Palamas muttered, dusting off her sleeves.

"No, this is...this is strikingly similar to the interior layout of the Pyramids of Giza," Jemma said with fascination.

She ran a hand along the stone walls, not completely smoothed out but smooth enough to tell that the rock had been properly cut and quarried and that they weren't just standing in some sort of natural cave formation.

"I thought exactly the same thing," Hand said, staring at the walls. "Ever been inside the Great Pyramid, Simmons?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Well I have. And this is exactly what it looks like."

"Out of all the pyramids of Giza, the Great Pyramid of Pharaoh Khufu is the most complex," Jemma said.

"If you're gonna make some grand statement about these ruins having something to do with Djedefre, and Djedefre was related to Khufu—" Hartley began, but was interrupted by Fitzsimmons.

"Brother," Fitz piped up.

"Son," Jemma disagreed.

"—And that it'd be one hell of a coincidence for the architecture here and at Khufu's place to be the same, save it. Vic's already made the connection," Hartley grinned.

Skye raised a hand.

"I hate to keep pulling this card, but will someone explain to the high school dropout what exactly we're talking about here?"

Coulson's crew continued to lead the way through the underground. Jemma walked and talked as she laid it all out for Skye.

"Alright, so, the three pyramids at Giza belong to Pharaohs Khufu, Khafre, and Menkaure. Think of them as the Prince Williams and Prince Harrys of the ancient world."

"Got it," Skye followed along so far.

"Now, Djedefre was also part of this royal family, being one of Pharaoh Khufu's sons."

Fitz cleared his throat. Jemma rolled her eyes.

"According to that fairytale Fitz likes to cling to, he was Khufu's brother. But that really doesn't matter. What matters is that as far as the academic community is concerned, Djedefre's final resting place is just north of Giza in Abu Rawash."

"I vaguely remember that," Skye still followed.

"But now, with the mounting evidence—the map with Djedefre's seal leading right to these ruins, and this underground layout almost exactly mirroring that of his father's pyramid, could we be about to turn the academic community upside down? Could _this_ possibly be the final resting place of Pharaoh Djedefre?"

Skye knew Simmons' excitement must have been off the charts if she was starting to talk like the lead-in to an episode of National Geographic.

The passages they journeyed through got narrower and narrower, forcing the crew to travel in more and more of a straight line. Skye slowed her paces, fell back a bit to walk closer to Fitz.

"So Fitz, I've heard the professor diss this 'fairytale' of yours, but I haven't heard it for myself," she started. "Tell it to me."

"Really?" Fitz brightened a bit at the thought of someone, even if it was Skye, being interested in his storytelling.

"Yeah, I want to know."

"Well, it's not even 100% story, some of it was genuine archaeological speculation and, to some researchers, still is to this day. The story is that after Khufu, his brother—"

"Son," Jemma interrupted from a few feet ahead.

"—Khawab, was next in line to the throne of Egypt. Djedefre, in a grab for power, murders Khawab, his own brother, and ascends to the throne as a cruel and violent ruler."

"So it's The Lion King, but in Egypt," Skye said.

"If you want to put it that way, sure," Fitz shrugged, and began to segue into his storyteller mode. "That's the part that may have actually been true. We may never know. But the _rest_ of the story, the rest of it says that Djedefre was far more cruel and vicious a king than anyone could ever comprehend. Egypt fell into chaos and disorder under his misguided leadership. But his priests, who stayed loyal to Khufu even after his death and sought to see his son Khafre—the now-true heir—claim the throne, plotted to end Djedefre's reign for the good of Egypt."

The rest of the crew was all listening in at this point, bored in their walking and relishing a distraction in Fitz's fantastical story.

"But no matter how tyrannical a king may be, to kill a Pharaoh was a crime against the very gods themselves. Knowing full well that they would damn themselves for all eternity, the priests murdered Djedefre and placed the darkest of all curses on him so that he may never find peace even after death. They locked him inside a sealed sarcophagus, ensuring that neither his body or his cursed soul would ever reach the afterlife."

"Harsh..." Skye said under her breath.

"Although Egypt rejoiced, Djedefre's royal guards had a sacred duty to punish the priests for their crimes and make them suffer the worst fate imaginable—being mummified alive. Khafre took his rightful place as Pharaoh, and Egypt was a kingdom of peace and plenty once more. But Djedefre? Djedefre was trapped between this world and the next, stuck forever in a cursed limbo. Fearing he might one day break free and incite a new reign of horror and revenge, Khafre ordered that the bodyguards of Djedefre and their descendants were to guard his resting place until the end of time, lest the monster rise from the grave and wreak a bloody vengeance on humanity and the very earth itself!"

Thoroughly entertained, Skye and Hartley clapped for him, along with Trip and the other Shields, save for Hand. Jemma just shook her head and sighed, but she couldn't stop a little smile from peeking through—people did love her best friend's stories.

The tunnel they walked made a sharp left, and to Jemma's extreme exhilaration, Hand announced that they'd made it.

"Watch your step, she warned.

A big pile of broken stone laid before them, and they all stepped over it to enter the room the tunnel turned into. It was perfectly rectangular, and perfectly empty. Nothing but four walls of stone hauntingly bouncing their lantern lights back at them...and a large black sarcophagus resting along the far back wall. Both Fitz and Jemma's breath caught in a hitch.

"Would you look at that..." Sitwell whistled.

"That is a sight to see..." Radcliffe said.

A veil of awe drifted over everyone, and for a little bit they just stood and marveled at the fact that their little journey into the unknown had turned up an actual archaeological discovery. The veil fell away from Palamas first.

"...Not to burst anyone's bubble, but how do we know there's still something inside?" she questioned, her Shield thoughts automatically turning to tomb raiders and body snatchers.

Trip pointed at the sarcophagus.

"Because ain't no one getting into that thing," he said firmly.

Jemma gasped.

The sarcophagus had a lock on it, the exact same lock helming the door to the shrine they'd discovered earlier. The lock that would be opened by the box/key that Fitz still carried in his bag. Hand raised an eyebrow.

"Know something we don't?" she asked.

"Yeah. We know how to open it," Fitz told her, already searching his bag without even needing to look at what he was doing.

Hartley leaned over.

"Whatcha got there, short stack?" she asked.

"Turns out the nifty little box that led us all here in the first place doubles as a key," Skye answered on Fitz's behalf.

"Anyone else think this is getting entirely too creepy?" Palamas raised her hand.

"I walked into a shrine to a chaos god. I hit creepy about an hour ago," Skye said.

Fitz pulled out the box, pressing the bottom indentation and making it take the shape of the key.

"Do we open it?" he asked.

"Well Shield and our university need to know what's here, right?" Jemma reasoned. "If we open this and find an intact, undiscovered mummy, then we can go back to Cairo and assemble a bigger, more extensive crew."

"And Coulson knows to mark these ruins as an active archaeological site and assigns a bigger, more extensive Shield detail to protect it," Hand added. "Open it."

Fitz crossed the room and drew close to the black sarcophagus with the key in hand, taking the time to study it as he reached the stone encasing.

"Jemma..." he murmured.

The professor came over as well.

"Why...it's missing the funeral mask!" she noted with surprise. "...No, not missing, it's like the sarcophagus was never designed with one."

"Funeral masks were necessary so the spirit could recognize its body in the afterlife," Trip knowingly said.

Jemma leaned over the sarcophagus and crouched down to examine the sides.

"And I don't see any inscriptions or protective spells carved into it either," there was such confusion in her voice, knowing this was all completely out of the norm.

"Someone didn't want this bad boy having a good time," Hartley chuckled.

"Just a tick," Radcliffe chimed in. "Anyone care to notice what we're all standing around? A _sealed sarcophagus_?"

"Don't tell me you've fallen for that silly story of Fitz's," Jemma groaned.

"It's an awfully strange coincidence."

"Radcliffe, it doesn't matter if some ancient cursed mummy springs to life. It's the 21st century, and we have guns," Skye pointed out.

When the superstition talk had dropped, Fitz aligned the key with the lock, and turned it. Jemma held her breath until she heard the clicking sound, and let it out in one big rush of air. Then Trip, Fitz, Simmons, and Skye all worked to lift and slide the sarcophagus lid out of the way. They situated it on the floor where it sent up a plume of sand and dust with a "thud" and then the four all peered inside.

"...Oh yeah," Skye nodded. "That's a mummy."

* * *

Back at base camp, it seemed no one was safe from Jemma's ecstatic hugs. She hit Trip, Radcliffe, Burrows, Hartley, a mortified Hand, and then Fitz.

"We did it!" she cheered to her best friend, thrilled beyond belief at their discovery.

Skye came back from checking on the camels, and then she was met with an exuberant hug as well.

"We did it, Skye!!"

Skye's first and only thought was for someone who spent her entire afternoon trudging around dusty tunnels, Jemma's hair smelled ridiculously good.

"What did we do?" the Shield asked, prying herself loose from Simmons.

"We've made an _actual_ archaeological finding!" Jemma explained with a huge smile. "Not some...some _trinket_ dug up in the sands outside of Cairo where the tourists play, but an undiscovered mummy! A tomb!"

"An entire underground complex of chambers and passageways," Fitz added with a huge grin, brimming with excitement too.

"Oh, and speaking of passageways, there is one more thing I'd like to do before we head back to Cairo tomorrow," Jemma switched back into business mode.

"What's that?" Skye asked.

"I want to investigate down that other unexplored tunnel. You know, that fork in the passage where the shrine was to the left and something else was to the right?"

Skye sat in the sand in front of her tent.

"You just never give up, do you?" she laughed.

"Well we leave tomorrow, it'll bother me if that one little corridor goes without investigation."

"It'll bother me too," Fitz agreed.

"Alright, fine," Skye conceded. "But after we dig up something from Hartley's village pals for lunch."

"We didn't get much from them but beans and rice, I'm afraid," Jemma told her.

"...Right, when we get back to Cairo, the three of us are hitting a McDonald's," the Shield leader grumbled.

After prison-like rations of rice, bread, and beans (which Skye could vouch for, having been in prison and all), the trio was back underground, and the only three still partaking in the adventuring spirit. The rest of Shield had called it quits for the day and was saving any further exploration for their second, more extensive trip to the necropolis. But Fitzsimmons couldn't deny their archaeological drive, and Skye couldn't deny that little twinkle in Jemma's eyes when she talked about digging deeper into the ruins.

"...Was it this way?" the professor asked, swinging her lantern around.

Skye's face fell.

"You got us lost?"

"No, it was this way," Fitz said with firm assurance, holding his lantern out in front of him and taking the lead. "Believe me, I had the way memorized already so we _wouldn't_ get lost."

After a bit more walking they came again to the intersection in the tunnels, and automatically the three went to the right.

"Boy, I sure do hope we find another pit of evil," Skye sarcastically joked.

"It wouldn't seem out of place here, let me tell you," Fitz muttered.

The passageway wound and wove, narrowed and widened, twisted and turned. The sun was still shining bright in the sky when they made their second descent, but Skye knew that any minute now the horizon would be painted with the reds and oranges of sunset.

"Hey, if this goes on for much further we might have to turn back," she called ahead to Fitzsimmons. "We don't know just how deep these tunnels may go."

"Unfortunately, agreed," Fitz said. "If we don't find some sort of end in sight we'll just have to save it for our second expedition and—"

"Aha!" Jemma interrupted triumphantly.

"—Nevermind."

The passage curved to the right, and ended in another chamber. This one wasn't filled with art or artifacts, but broken bits of rock and stone. Definitely a room worse for the wear. But even with nothing of interest inside, Jemma and Fitz walked right in and took a good look around anyway.

"Strange how this underground appears to be mainly empty," Jemma said partly to herself.

"Tomb raiders," Skye shrugged.

"No, I don't think that's it," the professor puzzled amongst herself for a moment. "It doesn't feel as if everything's been stolen, it almost feels as if there was nothing here in the first place."

"A tomb would've been filled with the treasures of its occupant or occupants," Fitz told Skye. "Not just treasures as in valuables, but everyday items and furnishings to be used in the afterlife."

"So we've got a tomb with a stiff and nothing for it to take to the afterlife. Add the unmarked sarcophagus and this guy really doesn't seem like a popular dude. Not trying to get the stink eye from Simmons, but your evil mummy story seems to be getting more and more real."

"Speculation, coincidence, and jumping to conclusions. Nothing more," Jemma waved away Skye's words and dismissed the idea of evil mummies.

The light from Skye's lantern caught something along the far wall.

"I think I see something over there."

She led Fitzsimmons across the chamber, to where one section of wall didn't appear to match the others.

"Why, it's a chest, lodged into the wall!" Jemma realized.

"...I love this place," Fitz quietly said.

There was a nook carved into the stone where the chest fit so perfectly it appeared to be part of the wall itself when seen from a distance. Skye set her lantern on the ground and worked to tug and pull the chest free. With a good strong yank it came loose, and Fitz helped her lower it to the ground. The three all knelt down around it.

"This place is like a treasure trove," Jemma agreed with Fitz's earlier statement. "Something around every corner."

Skye brushed off the top of the chest, looking for hieroglyphs.

"...No writing on it. Just looks like your average, run-of-the-mill box," she shrugged.

"That all depends on what's inside," Fitz noted.

Taking his words to heart, Skye jimmied the lid free and opened up the chest. All three of them went wide-eyed.

"...Simmons, I'd say this place just turned into a literal treasure trove," Skye said in awe.

Inside the chest was a book. A book made of gold. The cover, the pages, and the back were all sheets of it, with hieroglyphs carved down each and every page.

"It's like the Etruscan Gold Book..." Jemma marveled, flipping through pages. "Thought to be the world's oldest existing book at over 2,000 years old."

"Inscribed with the lost Etruscan language and still virtually indecipherable to this day," Fitz elaborated. "Smart of the Egyptians to use sheets of gold, they knew it would last."

"Fitz, do you realize that with proper dating _this_ could very well turn out to be the world's oldest existing book?" the fact dawned on Jemma.

"You nerds are going to be all over the news," Skye smiled. "A mummy, a book, you two will be the Beyoncé of the Egyptology world."

Jemma had to stop and practically fan herself.

"This is the greatest day of my young life," she said dramatically.

"And mine!" Fitz chimed in.

Skye let Fitzsimmons have their moment, and then curiously got back to the book of gold.

"So what do you think this is? The Egyptian book of the dead?" she questioned.

Jemma continued to ride her high but still had time for a teaching moment.

"No, the book of the dead was never an actual book. It was just the collective name for texts and spells used in the afterlife and funeral proceedings. But, looking at this book, these do appear to be spells of some sort..."

"A spellbook. Neat," Skye honestly wasn't even fazed at this point. Jemma could've told her the book led the way to the nearest Burger King and after all they'd found today she really wouldn't be surprised by it.

"We've got to show this to Hand," the professor bounded to her feet, clutching the book tightly.

"We can take this back to Cairo to show Coulson and Professor Sarraf, that way we have tangible proof that this complex needs further investigating," Fitz eagerly explained.

Skye wouldn't show it as she led the way back through the passages, but she felt it too. The thrill of discovery, of uncovering pieces of the past, being the first one to step back thousands of years and find the secrets that civilization left behind.

Man, she loved her job.

* * *

When Fitzsimmons revealed the book to everyone back on the surface, Radcliffe decided that it was as good a time as any to reveal that one of his bags wasn't filled with necessary expedition equipment—but with alcohol. Bottles and bottles of beer and wine he'd brought along "for a special occasion" just like this. So night began to fall over the ruins, and Shield celebrated their discoveries. Fitz passed out cold in front of the fire they'd built after only two bottles of celebration, but everyone else went strong until nearly midnight, when the victory party died down and the Shields one by one sleepily retired to their tents.

"Come on Skye! Show me a—* _hic*_ —another!" Jemma very loudly said.

She and Skye were the only ones left awake, still around the fire and the shape of a subconscious Fitz. Jemma was bobbing up and down on her feet with her fists raised, begging for lessons in "proper badassery" from Skye. The Shield set her last beer down in the sand beside her and stood up.

"Simmons, you really don't need to know any of this," Skye chuckled at just how drunkenly red the professor's cheeks were.

"But I _do!_ What if I'm working some late night at the university, hm? And I'm walking to my car in the dark and some hooligan waltzes up and demands all my hard-earned cash, hm?"

Thank goodness for alcohol; everyone else was in too deep a sleep to be bothered by the ramblings of Jemma's outdoor voice.

"Alright, fine, one more," Skye shook her head in defeat. "Okay, come at me like you're throwing a punch from the side. _Slowly_ , Simmons."

She emphasized the word with the memory of just ten minutes earlier when the over-exuberant drunken woman took impromptu self-defense lessons a little too seriously and decked her.

But Jemma listened, and moved in slow motion like she was making to hit the Shield.

"Arm up, elbow bent, and block," Skye acted out the movements as she said them and stopped Jemma's arm. "Other arm up, and punch."

She made a fist and lightly tapped Jemma's chin, which was enough to sway her off balance and send her falling backwards before Skye reached out and caught her.

"Aaand we're done for the night," Skye laughed, sitting Jemma down and then dropping beside her.

"You are very, very badass," Simmons said admirably.

"It's nothing."

"I don't know how you stand it. How do you stand it, Skye? Being such a badass?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

Jemma flopped backwards onto the sand, looking up at the stars against an unspoiled canvas of black.

"Look how _*hic*_ beautiful. Just stars and desert. We've got the Skye in the sand and the stars in the sky."

Jemma laughed like she'd just told the funniest joke in the world.

"You want to know a fun fact?" Skye asked. "One I can tell you because I know you won't remember it in the morning?"

"I _love_ fun facts."

"...My real name is Daisy. Daisy Johnson."

Simmons gasped, dropping her jaw and tilting her head to look over at Skye.

"Daisy..." she repeated. "That has got to be the prettiest name I have ever heard in my entire life."

Skye knew it was only the beer talking, yet still felt her cheeks turning a little pink.

"But if it's all the same to you, I still prefer to go by Skye," the Shield said.

"How'd you come to settle on that when your real name is Daisy?"

"I didn't know my real name for the longest time," Skye said easily. "I'm an orphan. Spent my whole life in the foster system until I was old enough to be kicked out. It wasn't until high school that I got curious enough to do some digging, and voilà, Daisy Johnson."

"Wow," the other woman breathed. "I've always just been Jemma Simmons."

"Consider yourself lucky."

"After today I do," Jemma giggled. "I helped discover what could very well be the find of the decade, I _am_ the Beyoncé of the Egyptology world!"

From the fire, Fitz gave one single, loud snore.

"Weird to see the Scotsman out after just two drinks," Skye noted.

"He gets like that sometimes. Just depends on how much he's eaten that day."

"How long have you two known each other?" Skye questioned.

"Oh, forever. We grew up together, he's practically my _*hic*_ brother. Fitz's dad was...I can't remember the word I'm looking for, but think of a word for 'not very nice' and that's what he was. Fitz's mum couldn't do much about it. We were neighbors, he ended up spending all his time at my house to escape, even after his dad left. We've just been inseparable since childhood, that's all there is to it."

"Sounds nice," Skye mumbled.

"...Was it very lonely, foster care?"

"I got used to it. No one seemed to keep me around for very long. With each new house I eventually just learned not to expect to stay. Made it easier when I got shipped out. And made it easier to leave everything there behind and come here to Egypt after dropping out of high school."

"...It sounds like you've been rather alone until Shield."

"Like I said, I got used to it."

Simmons sat up, which was no small feat on her part.

"Do _you_ want to know a fun fact?" she questioned.

"Sure."

"I would very much like to kiss you."

"...You're only saying that because you're a walking bottle of wine right now," Skye laughed.

"No no, I mean it," Jemma insisted, wearing a little pout. "You're _so_ intriguing and interesting, and really very kind. This whole week has been an adventure thanks to you. And unless I'm sorely mistaken, I have a feeling you might find me intriguing and interesting too."

"You're not mistaken," Skye admitted.

Jemma's face drunkenly lit up.

"Right then. Then I think we should kiss."

"You are definitely not going to remember any of this conversation tomorrow."

"Of course I will!" Jemma pouted again.

"We'll see, Simmons."

Without another word, Skye leaned in and kissed her. Nothing over-the-top extravagant and romantic, just soft and surprisingly sweet. Enough for them to test the waters, enough for them to figure out if they'd eventually want more.

Jemma grinned like an idiot and giggled like a schoolgirl when it was over.

"Now that, I will remem— _*hic*_ —ber."

With that, she closed her eyes and promptly passed out cold like Fitz had before her, falling sideways with a comical plop in the sand. Skye just laughed to herself.

"Like I said, we'll see."

She reached behind her and into her tent, grabbing two blankets. One she rolled up and gently wedged under Jemma's head and the other she draped over the slumbering professor, just enough to keep her warm if a breeze drifted by but not enough to overheat her in the desert air.

"Night, Simmons."


	9. Rising Tide

The thunder of hoofbeats pounded the ground under Skye's head, jarring her awake. From somewhere outside her tent she heard a dazed "...Huh? Whazzat?" from Simmons, who had also been jolted awake by the shaking of the ground. Skye's hands searched out her two guns, and she whipped aside the flap of her tent. She saw that Kara Palamas and Trip had also been drawn out into the night by the noises, and saw a very confused librarian and a slightly hungover professor sitting up from where they'd dropped around the now-dying fire.

Even in the dark, Skye's line of sight was drawn to the desert just outside the perimeter of the ruins, where a cloud of dust being kicked up was drawing closer and closer, and a chorus of battle cries was growing louder and louder.

"Fitz!! Simmons!! Stay down!" she suddenly yelled, readying her handguns with identical clicks.

No sooner had the rest of the Shield crew ventured forth from their tents—some armed and ready, some half asleep with one eye closed—did an army of horses burst through the crumbling walled entrance of the ruins. Over twenty of them, each with a hooded rider of black robes and fighting spirit. The same men who had attacked the ferry.

A shootout was upon them without a word. The night exploded with bullets and gunshots, echoing here and ricocheting off of stone there. Skye leapt behind a fallen pillar for cover, and saw Fitzsimmons wide awake now and scrambling to do the same. The marauders charged through base camp on their horses, knocking down tents and firing shots. Hartley and Hand came out in force, double-teaming and quickly catching three separate attackers in the leg with a barrage of bullets and Hartley's throwing knives, littering the sand with three writhing bodies who had fallen off their horses.

"What the bloody hell is going on??" Fitz demanded, yelling over the noise.

"Well, we appear to be under attack," Jemma fretfully answered, ducking as a bullet whizzed by just overhead.

"Why does that keep happening to us??"

Radcliffe, who learned his way around the last time he was at these ruins under attack (it really did seem to happen a lot), led Davis and Burrows through all the good cover spots and safely fired from there. Trip shot a marauder off his horse and then hijacked the animal for himself, feeling very Wild West through it all and wearing a thrilled grin. Fitzsimmons let out a simultaneous yelp when Skye suddenly came diving behind their own cover.

"Are we going to die?" Jemma blurted.

"What? No, why do you always assume that everytime there's a shootout?" Skye reloaded her gun with ammo.

"Because it's a bloody shootout!"

"And I'm a professional, Simmons. Just relax."

Locked and loaded, Skye leapt back out into the fray.

"Relax, she says," Fitz groaned.

He watched Palamas climb onto a broken block of stone and leap at a passing attacker, tackling him off his horse and proceeding to go fisticuffs with him in the sand. Everything was happening so fast, Fitzsimmons could do nothing but cower behind their cover and hope nobody would notice them. Skye outgunned her way through attackers left and right like the top Shield she was, catching one running up on Nathanson and earning herself an impressed smirk from Hartley, who stopped to yank one of her throwing knives from the shoulder of one of the robed men (who yowled in agony at the action and got a "Serves ya right!" from Hartley).

The night became a cacophony of gunfire, screams, bullet impacts, hoofbeats, and shouts, until one sound came in to drown out all the rest. Another horse was blazing into the ruins, a lone rider atop him, wearing a fierce expression that stood out clear as day even beneath the shadow of his hood. He was huge, imposing, and letting loose a fearsome fighting roar as his horse raced straight for the middle of the action. And, as if his presence alone wasn't drawing attention, he brandished a submachine gun, firing off a goddamn uzi into the air. The seamless rattling of bullets into the night sky stopped everyone in their tracks, including Sitwell, who had taken one glance at the new contender and immediately hauled ass in the opposite direction.

"Enough!!" the rider's voice boomed and he lowered his uzi. Nothing but silence now.

He looked around at Shield, and then at his own fighters, piercing eyes taking in every one of them. Silently, he reached up and lowered his hood, dispelling the shadows from his face. He was a strikingly handsome man, still intimidating, with Ancient Egyptian writing tattooed across his features.

"My name is Mack, leader of the Medjai," he spoke directly to Shield with a deep, commanding voice.

Skye glanced over her shoulder at Hand, and then at Radcliffe. Neither of them had heard of anyone or anything called "Medjai".

"You don't belong here," Mack went on, meeting the eyes of each Shield and Fitzsimmons, who were timidly peeking their heads out from behind the pillar they hunkered behind. "Leave this place by morning, or you won't be leaving at all. This is your only warning."

Without another threatening word, Mack turned his horse around and sped right out of the ruins. The rest of the so-called Medjai slung their fallen members over horses and spurred them into action as well, following after their leader in the same thunder and cloud of sand they'd arrived in. They were gone just as suddenly as they appeared. Shield was just as dazed and confused as they'd been when they appeared.

"Head count. Raise your hand if you're dead," Skye called out, able to joke with her confidence that her team had handled themselves perfectly.

The only damage here was scuffs and scrapes from dodging bullets and barreling behind the safety of stone.

"Where's Fitzsimmons?" the Shield leader asked.

It wasn't until Skye called their names that the professor and the librarian relinquished themselves out into the open, joining Shield at the center of the camp.

"No one told us at Cambridge that archaeology included this many bullets," Jemma grumbled, dusting herself off.

"When was the last time you ever saw a Cambridge professor go outside?" Hartley joked.

Palamas chucked her gun aside and went to work pitching her tent again, Radcliffe stooped over and casually plucked someone's half-full beer bottle from the ground to finish the job himself.

"Seems like those spectacularly violent blokes have never been thrilled with the idea of us being here," Skye's partner said after a drink. "First the ferry, and now this."

Hand looked to her own partners.

"Trip. Medjai. Ring any bells?" she questioned.

Trip shook his head.

"Why don't we ask the brains of this operation?" he suggested, turning his gaze on Fitzsimmons.

"Well, actually, the word 'medjai' has had several different meanings," Jemma started. "More commonly it's pronounced 'medjay'."

"The word has referred to a section of northern Sudan, then the people who came from there, then a group of nomads, and then the Egyptian military of the New Kingdom," Fitz explained.

"Well whoever they are, they sure as hell don't want us here," Palamas picked up her gun again and sat in front of her fixed tent.

"Question is, why?" Sitwell mused.

"They know something we don't," Burrows offered, picking up another downed tent.

"Maybe this land is merely sacred to them," Jemma's innocent mind took a simple and decidedly pacifistic route.

"The doesn't explain how or why they hijacked the ferry," Skye pointed out, crossing her arms.

The lightbulb flashed on above Trip's head.

"Hey, that's right. We never even thought about that. They knew where we were going, and they knew how to get to us. But how?" he wanted to know.

"One of them asked me about the map!" Jemma blurted, remembering. "How on earth could he have known about it?"

Hand's eyes narrowed behind her glasses, turning like daggers on Skye and her team.

"I hate to insinuate that one of us here is a rat, but—"

"Cool your jets, Vic," Hartley stopped her partner's dangerous train of thought in its tracks. "There's a hundred other explanations as to why these dogs are on our tail."

Hand didn't appear to be convinced, but didn't press the matter further.

"No, I can tell you all exactly what's going on here," Radcliffe, who had a seat in the sand to enjoy his beer, rose to his feet again. "It's simple."

Skye raised an eyebrow.

"How simple?"

"Extremely simple. They're just graverobbers. Tomb raiders, like the kind we've fought off over and over again, like the kind we fought off from this very site just a week ago. Which means, by extension, these ruins must be brimming with treasure."

"You really think so?" Trip wasn't as sure.

"I think so, yes."

His words were followed by the sudden chorus of gun clicks, one right after the other. Skye froze. Her veins turned to ice.

Palamas, Burrows, Nathanson, Davis, and Sitwell. The five of them stood there with guns raised, barrels trained on Skye, Fitzsimmons, and Coulson's crew. Radcliffe dropped his bottle onto the ground, beer spilled out and soaked the sand.

"We're standing on top of a treasure trove, ladies and gents," he threw his arms wide and gestured at the complex around him.

Then he drew his own gun.

"...And we're going to take every last bit of it."

* * *

Skye didn't know what it was that shook her out of it. It wasn't her own team's guns pointed at her, it wasn't some sort of dose of reality suddenly breezing by. But somehow, she snapped out of it.

"...Radcliffe, you fucking lying bastard!!" she yelled.

Her body automatically stepped forward like she was going to throttle each of the traitors with her own bare hands, and she was only stopped by them lurching forward with their guns.

"You're the rat," Trip growled. "You're the one who sold us out!"

"Hey, let's not call us names. We did no such thing," Radcliffe denied. "We have no idea who these Medjai are or how they knew to follow us. We're just here for a little extra cash."

Jemma and Fitz stood there with gaping mouths, fully aware they very much resembled fish and fully aware that they were in the line of six different guns.

"You're a part of Shield, dammit! _Shield!!_ " Skye's enraged voice took over the night air. "We protect the treasure! We protect the history! Our job is to see that Egypt is remembered in museums where it belongs, not our own goddamn pockets!!"

"And for such an important and noble job, you'd think Coulson would pay us more," Radcliffe said.

"So you've been working against us this entire time," Hand's words dripped with venom.

"Just how long have you been screwing Shield over, Radcliffe?" Skye demanded.

"This is our first job, as a matter of fact," Palamas wore a wicked grin and spoke with pride.

"And we worked hard for it," Nathanson added.

"Took a lot of talk and smarts to get May to approve us for this expedition when there were so many other Shields to choose from," Sitwell explained.

"Just think, if she sent along Morse or Hunter you wouldn't even be in this situation right now," Palamas laughed.

Fitzsimmons were slowly creeping their shoes along the sand, centimeter by centimeter, praying they could get out of the line of fire.

"We aren't going to let you do this," Trip firmly promised.

"And if it were anything other than our six guns against your four, we'd be a tad worried," Radcliffe said.

The sheer ice in Hand's expression melted away in spite of everything, giving way to a smirk.

"And that's where you're wrong," she said. "It's your six guns...against Isabelle's reflexes."

It all seemed to happen in the span of less than a second. No sooner than the word "reflexes" passed through Hand's lips did Hartley whip out one of her special throwing knives. Curved, and wickedly sharp, she hurled it at the traitorous six and it flew just like a boomerang and at lightning speed to boot, striking each of them in the hands one after the other and knocking the guns into the sand one by one.

And then it was on.

Skye charged forward without any hesitation, hoping to get Radcliffe but catching Palamas instead, landing a solid punch as Kara clutched at her injured hand. It knocked the turncoat Shield down into the sand, and Skye readied her other fist.

Hand didn't play fair, she didn't think Radcliffe and his pals deserved it. She drew her gun and shot Sitwell and Davis in the leg, one bullet each in just the right spot to drop the two men like rocks. She evened the numbers and Trip joined the fray. At her side, Hartley readied her favorite knives, and she caught her slightly stab-happy partner by the hand.

"They're rats, but they're not dead rats," she warned. "They go back to Shield and get thrown in jail for illicit antiquities trading."

"You're so boring," Hartley grumbled, relenting anyway and pocketing her knives once more.

"I'll make it up to you later."

Sitwell tried to crawl limply over to his gun as punches and kicks were thrown all around him, but Trip caught him in the act.

"I don't think so, buddy!" he reached down and grabbed Sitwell by the collar, lifting him and throwing him backwards.

In one swift motion he then kicked the gun far out of sight before whirling around and catching Nathanson—who was sneaking up on him—square in the jaw.

Shield versus Shield was like a scene straight out of an action movie. They were all trained to fight, and all trained to know exactly what they were doing. They were equally matched, and who came out on top would all boil down to who had the bigger will to win. Burrows tried to get Skye from behind while her attention was on Palamas, but the Shield leader couldn't be stopped. This was her team. Her mission. When you got right down to it, Shield was her home. Radcliffe had just kicked the door down and invited the others in to wreck the place. And Skye was mad as hell about it.

The top Shield showed she truly earned that title as she fought her way through Palamas, Burrows, and Nathanson right alongside Coulson's crew. The good guys were a force to be reckoned with, Skye especially, as they teamed up on the traitors like they'd been fighting together for years. Fists flew, kicks struck, punches landed, bodies dodged, and it was clear as a bell who had the will to win, who was going to come out on top.

At one point Palamas singled out Skye with a vengeance, and the little voice in Skye's head was merely saying "bring it on". Her fists raised in front of her, and she took on her trained fighting stance. The determination to hand Kara's own ass to her had never been stronger. Skye wasn't about to let anything distract her from this.

"Jemma!!" Fitz's panicked cry rang out like a shot.

Skye turned her head in an instant, following the sound of Fitz's voice.

"...Jemma!!" she called out.

Radcliffe had the professor in a choke hold, with his gun to her head. The sight stopped Skye on a dime.

Palamas and Burrows seized her hesitation and got the jump on her, knocking her down onto her knees and restraining her with her arms behind her back. Radcliffe's team found their guns again and took aim.

"Look, I don't want to see anyone get hurt here," Radcliffe said easily. "It isn't as though I haven't got a heart. I'm only after the money."

Skye had a string of very unpleasant places she wanted to tell Radcliffe to put his money, but with a gun pointed at Jemma, all she could do was grit her teeth and clench her fists. No one saw Fitz as enough of a threat or even a bargaining chip to lay a hand on him, and with the librarian fearfully shaking at seeing his best friend so threatened, he really wasn't a threat at all.

Hand, Hartley, and Trip drew their guns and aimed all three at Radcliffe.

"Don't!" Skye ordered. Radcliffe's finger was right on the trigger.

Slowly and reluctantly, Coulson's Shields lowered their weapons.

"Just listen. These Medjai fellows obviously have something here to protect, and that obviously has to be something along the lines of treasure. We only want to find it, that's all," Radcliffe went on.

"And steal it," Skye growled.

"Against everything Shield stands for," Trip added.

"We aren't going to just toss it all away to the lowlifes of the black market. We'll make sure whatever we find ends up in the hands of private collectors, with men and women who will provide the proper care these priceless antiques need and deserve," Radcliffe explained.

"The history of Egypt doesn't belong to the individual," Hand viciously scowled.

"Let Simmons go," Skye demanded.

"Not so fast," Radcliffe said. "You lot already found a piece of it with that solid gold book, and there's got to be more somewhere."

"That makes for a lot of gold," Sitwell huffed, helped onto his good leg by Nathanson.

"I just want to have Simmons here take a good long look at that book for us," Radcliffe explained.

"W-what for? It's n-nothing m-more than a silly old spellbook, n-not even real spells!" Jemma stammered, shaking helplessly and very, very frightened.

Radcliffe silenced her by jamming his gun even harder against the side of her head.

"Or maybe it holds the secret to finding the rest of the treasure," he argued.

A terrified whine came from the poor professor's throat.

"Skye..." she whimpered.

"Jemma, you're going to be fine," Skye hurriedly promised.

"Just let her go, you can have the damn book for all we care," Fitz almost had tears in his eyes.

"That's most generous of you, Fitz!" Radcliffe laughed like they were all still a team, sitting around a table playing poker and talking adventure.

"Except we're not going to settle for an apple when we can take the whole damn tree," Palamas sternly said. "The nerd here is going to read that book for us and we'll just see what it says inside."

"You don't put Thor on the cover of a comic when the story inside is all about Captain America," Burrows explained their logic.

"And you don't make a book out of priceless gold just to fill it with silly old spells," Radcliffe finished. Then he started walking, dragging the professor along with him.

Skye tried to wrench herself free but wasn't strong enough to break loose, and truth be told, part of her wasn't even brave enough to break loose with Simmons in such a vulnerable position.

Radcliffe walked them to Jemma's tent where she'd stored the book, and finally let her go. But he kept the gun on her; she didn't dare make a break for it. Her legs were shaking so much she probably couldn't make a break for it even if she wanted to. Understanding what Radcliffe was waiting on without even being told, she slowly and shakily went into the tent and retrieved the book.

"Go ahead, Simmons. Tell us a story," Palamas mocked.

"You shut the hell up, Kara," Skye side-eyed her, then turned her gaze back to Jemma as Radcliffe walked her away again. "...Just read it, Simmons. Just do what he says."

Boy, was she going to enjoy making her partner pay.

Radcliffe stood Simmons in the middle of everyone, and her trembling hands opened up the book. It was heavy, being gold, and she struggled to hold it. Not caring in that instant that he was on the side of the team being used as potential target practice, Fitz marched forward to stand by Jemma's side and help her hold the book.

"Fitz," Skye said his name like a reflex, an automatic warning to be careful.

"Go on then," Radcliffe ordered, waving with his gun.

Jemma flipped pages, silently scanning to herself at first before she read aloud.

"...I swear, i-it's all just ancient spells and prayers the Egyptians believed held magic," Jemma insisted, afraid to look Radcliffe in the eye.

"Then go on and prove it."

"How will you know we aren't just making up a load of crap?" Fitz coldly questioned.

"Because unlike my partner here, I know a bluff when I see one."

Skye was _really_ going to enjoy making him pay.

Simmons stopped on a random page, scanning over the hieroglyphs for herself first.

"Get a move on, professor. Translate," Radcliffe urged. "Safest thing in the world. No harm ever came from reading a book."

Very aware that the gun pointed at her was going nowhere fast, Jemma took a deep breath, and started to read.

_"By the scorn of Ra, and the will of Set_   
_Unbind the One Within from the ties of_   
_his debt_   
_Let the day turn to night, let the night turn_   
_to flame_   
_As the veil of death lifts from the One With_   
_No Name_   
_Cursed was his land, cursed the world shall_   
_be_   
_When the eternal star of Set once again_   
_reigns free."_

"Aha!" Radcliffe cheered, a smile lighting up his face. "Did you hear that, chaps? 'The star of Set'! That has to be some sort of jewel or valuable gem, and it has to be somewhere in...in this..."

He trailed off when his words started to become drowned out by a massive rumble of thunder off in the distance. Only the rumble didn't die down, and it didn't stay in the distance for long. They all looked up at the night sky. Not a single cloud.

And the closer the rumble got, the clearer a strangely distinct buzzing and chirping noise became.

Hand's ears followed the unusual concert right to its source. She turned her head. And dropped her jaw.

"...Oh my god..."

Naturally, everyone followed her line of sight.

And naturally, no one expected to see a massive cloud of locusts—so thick and enormous that it blotted out the entire horizon—swarming right for the ruins.

"Go, go, go!" biblically bad situation or no biblically bad situation, Skye still had her leader instincts.

The plague of locusts crashed over the stone walls of the ruins like the wave of a tsunami and spilled into the complex as such, filling the air with a flood of deafening chirrups. And in that moment, everyone was on the same side again.

It was indeed like trying to outrun a tsunami, in that it simply couldn't be done. The insects had overtaken them within seconds in a plume so black it was like being trapped right in the middle of a sandstorm.

Skye bounded to her feet undeterred and unchallenged, breaking into a run right alongside Burrows and Palamas.

"Underground!" she ordered, having to shout and yell to be heard among the bugs. "Into the ruins!!"

Radcliffe sprinted like a madman, and Trip was right behind him. Skye raced forward and didn't stop, not even a couple feet later as she took the golden book in one hand and took Jemma's own hand in the other. Jemma had just enough time to grab Fitz, and then the three of them were a human chain of running into the complex of ruins.

"Was that always there?" Trip suddenly yelled.

Through the black of bodies and wings everyone collectively spotted a gaping hole carved out of a section of stone architecture that definitely had not been there before. After scouring the site by daylight and only finding their way into the catacombs by the Anubis statue, the cramped north passages, and an ancient stone door, no way was it possible that the twelve of them missed so obvious an entrance.

"Run now, question later!" Skye urged Trip.

Radcliffe didn't need to be told twice and dived into the hole in the wall. The ground inside gently sloped downwards, and without him knowing that he went rolling head over heels into a dark underground abyss. Nathanson came barreling after him and surprisingly had the sense and sheer reflex to snatch up a lantern as he ran past one, which he and Radcliffe now used to guide their way as they ran for their lives deeper into the underground.

Behind him, Hand and Hartley saw what he did and grabbed lanterns for themselves when they approached one on their path to the stone entranceway, and Fitz and Palamas did the same. No one made time to help Davis and Sitwell hobble to safety with their shot legs, but the two took matters into their own hands, hopping along almost comically with desperate speed.

In just seconds everyone had piled inside and tumbled down into the ruins, but no one stopped to collect themselves as the locusts would soon be swarming inside, too. It was nothing but frantic and slightly blind running for Shield and Fitzsimmons, and with a far more intricate weaving of passageways in this section of underground, everyone got separated fast.

"I hate to come off as repetitive but what the bloody hell is going on?!" Fitz blurted out all at once as they ran. The buzz of locusts wasn't far behind them.

"May's gonna owe me workmans' comp for the rest of her life after this mission, that's what's going on!!" Skye answered.

They only slowed down when the sounds of the swarm quieted with distance and their chests felt like they would burst if another step was taken. The trio collapsed onto the sandy floor of the passage, viciously gulping down air and breathing so very heavily. But the relative quiet wasn't quiet for long when Jemma gulped down just enough air to let it out in a scream. With energy she didn't even know she had left, Skye rocketed upright and saw a panicked Simmons covered with a handful of locusts.

"Jemma, Jemma! You're fine!" Skye leaned forward and quickly brushed the insects off of her.

When she was free and clear the professor scrambled on her hands and knees to crawl behind Skye and put a safe distance between herself and the bugs.

Then things finally began to settle down, and they were given a proper chance to breathe and gather their wits. An exhausted Skye scooted over along the ground to rest her head on the corridor wall. Jemma rested her head on Skye's shoulder. Fitz rested his head on Jemma's shoulder. The trio just huddled together miserably with aching legs and pounding hearts.

"...You guys alright?" Skye asked when she got enough wind back.

"Oh sure, just peachy," Fitz dryly said. "You?"

"Ready to beat Radcliffe into the ground with this thing, that's for damn sure," Skye used the light of the lantern to guide her hand to the golden spellbook. "'No harm ever came from reading a book' my ass."

"Skye, you can't possibly believe that reading from that book unleashed a swarm of locusts. That was correlation, not causation," after a firefight, getting turned on by half the team, being held at gunpoint, and going on the run from a horde of insects, Jemma was back to her scholarly self.

Skye, however, was remembering the being held at gunpoint aspect of Jemma's day specifically.

"Simmons, are you alright?" she asked again.

Jemma lifted her head and managed a small smile.

"Remarkably, yes. Thank you. And thank _you_ , Fitz."

She turned to her best friend and thought of how he stood by her side and was willing to give up the find of the decade to tomb raiders just to see her safe.

"If I'm ever going to need rescuing again, I want it to be done by you two," Jemma said.

"With any luck you're done with the damsel in distress routine by now," Skye hoped. "In the morning we'll drop Radcliffe into the Nile and float him back to Cairo, where we'll watch him rot in jail for attempted looting before coming back here with a _real_ Shield team. Today was pretty much rock bottom. How much more bad could there be?"

If only she knew that deep within the ruins, from inside their newly-uncovered sarcophagus, a withered and skeletal body was shooting its hand up towards the ceiling with a chilling, otherworldly scream.


	10. Mummy Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday (May 7th) was the 18 year anniversary of The Mummy #Blessed

"So does anyone want to explain why these tunnels have magically appeared out of nowhere?" Skye held the lantern out in front of her as she hurried down the stone passageway.

"And would anyone like to explain why clouds of _insects_ are magically springing up out of the sand?" Fitz questioned.

"Guys, please, there is no magic at work here," Jemma disagreed, following after Skye and Fitz.

"Jemma, twelve of us scoured the ruins up top. This entrance to the underground was not there," Skye argued. "After everything that's happened tonight I think it's fine for us to not know what the hell is going on."

The three of them came to a fork in the tunnels and stopped.

"...I think we should head back. Not go in deeper," Fitz suggested, looking over his shoulder at the way they just came.

The professor nodded.

"He's right, we need to get out and get back to Cairo. And you need to get back to Shield to tell them about Radcliffe."

"Has this really not ever happened before?" Fitz scoffed. "I'm not saying Shield's mission statement isn't admirable, but that many people working with that many priceless artifacts? I find it hard to believe that at least _one_ hasn't fallen to the allure of all that money."

"One has. And he dragged five others along with him," Skye said bitterly. "Alright. Let's head back out."

She turned around and edged her way past Fitzsimmons in the narrow passage, keeping the lantern held high. Jemma kept the golden spellbook clutched close to her as they walked, and Fitz was eyeing it in the dim lamplight.

"...Jemma, look, I hate to sound like Skye—"

"Literally standing right here," the Shield objected.

"—But it's a fairly big coincidence that swarms of locusts decide to pop up right after you read from that book."

"Radcliffe may have twisted morals, but he was right earlier; no harm ever came from reading a book," Jemma firmly asserted. "Strange, yes, and a fairly big coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless."

Skye stopped in her tracks, Jemma bumped into her, and Fitz bumped into Jemma. Skye tilted her head up and then to the side like she was listening to something.

"Skye?" Jemma prodded.

She didn't answer right away. And her eyes slowly widened.

"...Go," she said ominously. "Other way! Go!"

The low buzz coming up the tunnel was all the convincing Fitzsimmons needed. The two turned on their heels and sprinted in the opposite direction, back to the fork in the stone corridor, and Skye was right behind them. Unfortunately, so were the locusts. Within seconds the horrible buzzes and chirps of the insects were just behind them, and they were overtaken in a massive storm of legs and wings. Jemma's squeals and cries of "Gross gross gross!" added to the deafening noise, but Skye kept urging the two of them onward.

The three couldn't see a thing, it was like running through a film grain. They sped along blindly, and it was a wonder no one smacked right into a wall. But a loose rock or something of the like must have snagged Jemma's foot, because she went falling forward onto the ground of the passageway. She expected a rough landing, but what she didn't expect was tumbling head over heels like she was rolling downhill, spiraling downwards and downwards with no sense of where she was going. Skye lucked out and managed to glimpse a break in the swarm just long enough for her to see what was up ahead.

"Fitzsimmons! Alcove to the left!"

In a few feet she sidestepped into the alcove in question, pressing herself close to the stone. The locusts rushed past, continuing on down the tunnel and around a corner. Skye waited until the sound of them was long gone, and then turned from the alcove.

"Next time we come out here I'm bringing bug spray," Skye grumbled.

"Good plan," Fitz said.

Skye froze.

"Fitz..."

"What?"

Skye stepped back into the corridor, spinning around and around and waving the lantern along with her.

"...Where the hell is Simmons?"

* * *

"Where the hell is Vic?" Hartley demanded, switching out her preferred throwing knives for her handgun. "And why the hell did no one know about these tunnels?"

"Good questions," Trip cocked his own gun and then picked up the lantern resting on the ground beside him. "Here's another. What the hell do we do about that Radcliffe? A Shield turned tomb raider, the guy could do major damage."

"He and his crew already have attempted looting and attempted murder against them, all we have to do is let the Egyptian police have their fun and then it's business as usual. This country has just been dying to get their hands on Shield."

"You think Radcliffe really would've shot the professor?"

"I don't know the man, Trip. I don't know what the hell he would've done," testiness and irritation splintered Hartley's usual cool and collected demeanor. "What I know is that we need to grab Hand and get aboveground before Radcliffe and the others get away. Vic!"

Hartley yelled Hand's name, hearing it bounce and echo down the stone hall. She and Trip had no clue at which point they'd gotten separated, but the leader of Coulson's crew was nowhere to be found.

"She's gotta be back this way," Trip turned and briskly started walking.

Hartley kept calling out Hand's name as they went, unconcerned with the thought that she might be drawing the traitor Shields right to them. She had a gun, after all. She knew how to use it.

"For real though, I want to know how these tunnels get off appearing out of nowhere," Trip rounded a corner with his gun at the ready in case Radcliffe or the others were laying in wait.

"We'll ask the damn Geek Squad when we get out of here, but first we need to get out of here. Vic! Get your ass back over here!"

But far deeper into the underground, Victoria Hand couldn't hear her teammates at all. It boggled her mind how she managed to get so ridiculously lost in such a short amount of time, but here she was, making her way through the winding and intricate passages to find her way out.

"Well this is just peachy," she muttered to herself, realizing she'd gone in a lopsided circle twice.

No hieroglyphs on the walls, nothing for her to mark her way. The light from her lantern just swung off of the weathered stone. She was smart enough to quickly stop making those lopsided circles of hers, and it was the moment she did that she started to hear a second set of footsteps accompanying her own.

"Isabelle?" she said out loud, narrowing her eyes.

She was no idiot, she knew it could've been any of the other Shields, and she kept her gun held steady out in front of her. It was hard to tell where exactly the footsteps were coming from, but the fact that she wasn't getting any answers when she called out tipped her off to pretty good odds that one of Radcliffe's team was lurking nearby.

"You know, with tomb raiders on the loose, archaeologists and scientists are expecting every last one of Egypt's archaeological sites to be practically destroyed in a little over twenty years," she said to whoever was listening. "This is millennia of human history and knowledge we're talking about, not your ticket to make a quick buck. Which means I'm not entirely opposed to shooting you in the kneecaps for betraying everything Shield stands for just to line your pockets."

The footsteps faltered and stopped. Hand clicked the safety off on her gun, making sure the noise stood out sharply and clearly in the silence of the underground.

"Fun fact? Coulson and my team have been in this business long before Melinda May ever thought of the name 'Shield'. I'm willing to bet you're not going to get the drop on me down here. So let's say you stop playing games and come on out."

Simmons thought she heard something as she finally stopped tumbling wildly and righted herself, spitting out sand with a cringe and a shudder. She clamored to her feet and searched out the spellbook, picking it up from the ground where it landed with some difficulty in the oppressive dark of the tunnels. A voice. She was definitely hearing a voice, and not in the crazy way.

She was about to call out a hello, but instantly remembered all the nights of horror movies with Fitz and the fact that calling out a greeting with potential murderers lurking around hardly constituted the best of plans. So instead she stayed put for a couple seconds, listening for the voice again to suss out friend or foe. The words were muffled, lost in translation after echoing and echoing down countless twists and turns, but it was a woman's voice. Not Skye, Jemma knew that much, which left her with either Hartley, Hand, or Palamas. Her odds were two to one.

Jemma's mind was keen and analytical, and with a heavy book as her only weapon, she was going to take her time calculating just how much she really wanted to test those odds. Chances were she'd simply run into the good Shields. Or, she'd simply get shot in an attempt to whack Kara Palamas with an Ancient Egyptian hardcover.

But her time to think was cut short by the sound of a sudden scream and several rounds of gunshots. Simmons jumped and reflexively hugged the spellbook to her chest like some kind of bulletproof vest. She never thought of herself as the type to run _towards_ danger, but maybe a week around Skye was just rubbing off on her. Whatever the case, she darted forward in the dark, following the echoes of the next round of shots.

It was sheer instinct that spurred her on when the second scream sounded, a chilling and horrific noise. In just a few paces and just a few turns she began to see the glimmer of a lantern flickering off the walls, and followed the light.

"...Hand!"

The lantern was fallen over on the floor, and a few feet away was the crumpled form of Victoria Hand. Jemma hurried over and knelt beside the Shield, setting down the spellbook and carefully rolling Hand over.

Then Jemma's own piercing scream rang out through the corridors.

Fitz and Skye had been scrambling every which way in an attempt to track down their missing professor, and both abruptly came to a stop.

"...Was that Simmons?" Skye asked, hearing what sounded like a far-off scream.

"That was her," Fitz said right away, eyes widening a little.

Skye drew one of her guns in an instant and started in what she hoped was the right direction, the scream being too faint and far away for her to really judge where it came from. She hadn't known Simmons for very long, she was really still trying to get used to her. She knew that Simmons was smart, incredibly so, and extremely fun to listen to. She was her fair share of adventurous for the scholarly type, and that special combination of cute and gorgeous rolled into one. And if Radcliffe or one of his freaks had hurt her, Skye was going to beat someone in the face with the handle of her gun.

Jemma, for all her super smart, scholarly, cute, gorgeous, adventurousness, quivered terribly at the sight of Victoria Hand. The woman was alive, a great mercy, but limp and unresponsive save for a miserable groaning slipping weakly past her lips. Which was all to be expected given the state she was in—she had no eyes. Glasses probably askew somewhere on the ground where Jemma couldn't see, Hand laid there with two empty and raw sockets where her eyes used to be. Jemma had fallen backwards at the sight of her and her hands scrambled to pick up the golden book, as if it were some sort of magic shield against the horror in front of her.

"H-Hand??" she got her words back sooner than she would've thought. "H-Hand, it's Jemma! What happened to you??"

The Shield didn't answer. It was like her body was there, but nothing else. The fearful and slightly paralyzed professor didn't know how much time was passing by, it could've been only a minute, it could've been hours, but at some point a pair of simultaneous footsteps came running into the room and skidded to a stop along the sand.

"Jemma!!" Fitz dropped down beside her and gave her a relieved hug. "For crying out loud, now is not the time to be playing hide and seek!"

"Honestly!" Skye's breathless voice sounded next. "Give a girl a heads-up before you go running off to...Hand?"

Skye carried the lantern with her, and the fellow Shield was just outside of its glow. She only recognized the shape of her by the light of the other lantern toppled over on the ground. The unmoving Shield and Jemma's scream put themselves together inside Skye's head.

"Oh no..." Skye started forward to get a better look. "Tell me she isn't— ...alright, that is definitely _not_ what I was expecting."

Skye's cool demeanor did a good job of masking the frantic and high-pitched internal screaming that was going on in her head when she caught sight of Hand and her missing eyes. Fitz, seeing how the same blank and shell-shocked expression on Jemma's face began to take over Skye's, let go of his best friend to have a look for himself. And then rather wished he didn't.

"Bloody—!!" he jumped backward like he'd been shocked and lost his balance, falling flat onto his back before sitting up just halfway enough to scrambled backwards with maddening urgency.

The Shield leader forced herself to snap out of it first.

"Jemma, what the hell—"

"I don't know," Jemma wildly shook her head. "I don't know Skye, I heard her voice, and then she screamed, and there were bullets, and I don't know!"

Now it was Skye's turn to go to Jemma's side, dropping the lantern and kneeling down in the sand to hug her.

"It's okay, Jemma. It's okay," her voice was gentle as she comforted the scared professor with her hug. "She's alive, and we're going to get her out of here."

"But Skye! She—!"

"Is alive," Skye repeated, pulling back just enough to meet Jemma's eyes. "Hey, you heard gunshots and you still went after her?"

Jemma nodded.

"That's so brave, Simmons. You did a great job," Skye smiled reassuringly. "Now come on, everybody up. We're getting the hell back to Cairo."

The sudden approach of more running footsteps had the Shield leader instantly reaching for her gun, but before her reflexes could even follow through, Trip and Hartley were bursting onto the scene themselves.

"...Victoria?" no one had heard the tough-as-nails Hartley sound so vulnerable before, not even Trip, who had known her forever.

The knife-throwing Shield sped right to her fallen teammate, her hands hovering around uselessly as she simply didn't know what to do.

"Vic, goddamit...what the hell happened to you?" Hartley asked, stunned.

Hand stirred then, as if even without needing to hear her she somehow sensed that Hartley was there.

"Isabelle..." she groaned.

"Yeah Vic, it's me."

"Isabelle...run."

"Hell no, you know us better than that," Trip objected. "We're going after Radcliffe and those bastards."

"No..." Hand mumbled weakly. "...Run."

Fitzsimmons screamed at the same time, both in a high-pitched wail that made it hard to tell which one was Jemma's, which would have been comical in any other situation.

Just not this one.

It was a true testament to just how combat-trained Skye and Shield were, because in the face of what appeared to be a lumbering, sinewy, decomposing mummy, the sounds of jumping to feet and four gun clicks filled the air first before any sounds of panic or disbelief did.

"What the hell is that?!" Fitz demanded.

"What the fuck is that??" Skye said at almost the same time, both her guns aimed.

"That's what I just said! Only slightly meaner!"

It was a walking corpse, a figure of bones with tattered bits of skin and muscle hanging off like string, brown and aged wraps of linen woven around its body here and there. An honest-to-goodness monster, like something fallen straight out of a horror movie, glaring back at them all with chocolate brown eyes.

Victoria Hand's eyes.

The creature fixed them right on Jemma just then, and the golden book she desperately clung to. Its dislocated jaw opened wide, and it spoke in a language that only Jemma could understand.

_*"That does not belong to you."*_

Rapid-fire bullets suddenly came shooting forth from Trip's gun, and without hesitation he emptied an entire magazine into the skeletal corpse, blasting it to the ground.

"And we're moving!" he yelled.

No one needed to be told twice. Hartley grabbed Victoria, Trip grabbed a lantern, Skye grabbed Jemma's hand, and they collectively hauled ass.

* * *

"Come on you poor bastards, on your feet," Radcliffe helped Sitwell and Davis onto their good legs.

His side of Shield had made it back out of the tunnels, back to the camp and the open air now free and clear of locusts. When Palamas emerged she made a beeline straight for the camels, taking six reins in one hand and six in the other.

"What are you doing?" Radcliffe frowned in confusion.

Palamas checked over each of the camels, making sure they were each saddled and loaded up.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked right back.

"Wha— ...Hang on, no, we're not leaving them stranded out here," Radcliffe objected, realizing Kara fully intended on taking all twelve camels with them.

Kara's nose wrinkled with disgust like she'd gotten a whiff of something rotten.

"Now you want to play nice? We're not on the same team anymore, Radcliffe. They're Shield, and we're treasure thieves."

"Not yet we aren't, and we certainly aren't murderers," Radcliffe narrowed his eyes. "Steal the treasure, yes, wave a few guns around, sure, but we're not taking all the camels and _abandoning_ people in the middle of the desert!"

Nathanson came over to help get Davis and Sitwell hoisted onto camels.

"So you were just talking tough in front of Skye and the others," his words were cold, and he wasn't asking a question.

"Talking tough?" he repeated. "I told them no one was getting hurt!"

"They'll come after us, it's _Shield_ ," Burrows told him, siding with everyone else.

"And we've been on the inside of Shield! We know how to lay low and stay off their radar!" Radcliffe argued.

"We aren't going to get the chance to clean this place out if they're alive, Radcliffe," Palamas stepped forward, a fierce fire in her eyes. "These ruins are about to be an active excavation site with Shield here around the clock."

"And you think them being dead will fix that? You think May and Coulson won't swarm on this site when their Shields don't come back?"

"...He's right," Sitwell said with a groan at the pain in his leg. "The plan was to take Skye and the others out of the picture, grab the treasure, and run. Now they know what we're up to. Whether they're dead or alive, we won't be getting to come back anytime soon."

"So we just go," Radcliffe said with finality, climbing onto a camel and staring Kara down until she gave in and released a few of the reins.

"...You owe us treasure, Holden," Palamas said viciously.

"This is Egypt, Kara. There's treasure everywhere."

* * *

Skye had had her fill of running like a maniac for the night, and when they cleared the underground and raced back onto the surface world, she let go of Jemma's hand and let herself just drop flat onto the sand.

"What are you doing??" Fitz frantically asked. "We've got to go!"

"Look," Skye panted. "I just ran like a bat out of hell from a goddamn creature-feature, I am taking a breather."

Hartley ignored everyone else and carried Hand to one of the camp tents, laying her down in an attempt to tend to her even though there was really nothing left to attend to.

"Okay, but everyone saw that, right??" Trip questioned. "Did you see that?? The mummy, from the sarcophagus we found, it was walking!"

"And talking," Fitz muttered.

"And probably right on our trail, so if everyone would like to hop on a camel and hurry on back to Cairo, that would be lovely," the gentle mannerisms of Jemma's words were not at all reflected in her frantic tone.

"Talking..." Skye mumbled what Fitz had just said to herself before sitting up. "Simmons, did you understand what it said?"

"Well of course I did! It was only Ancient Egyptian, after all."

"'Only Ancient Egyptian'," Trip muttered under his breath as he jogged over to his tent to start piling things onto a camel. "I still have trouble with English sometimes and this woman over here talking 'bout 'only Ancient Egyptian'."

"So what did it say?" Skye persisted.

"It was talking about the spellbook, it said...it doesn't belong to me," Jemma answered.

"...What the hell did we just get ourselves into?" Trip said quietly.

"Oh, the usual. Routine Shield mission. A little journey into the desert. Simmons woke up a mummy. Now I'm sure we're doomed or something like that," Skye blithely said, standing back up.

" _I_ woke up a mummy??" the professor repeated incredulously.

"I didn't say it was on purpose, what with a gun to your head and everything, but let's take a step back here. You read from that book, and seconds later swarms of locusts are on the loose and a 3,000 year old dried out corpse just so happens to be up and mobile again," Skye explained.

"Then the spellbook really is a spellbook," Trip noted.

The gears turned in Jemma's mind.

"Well if that's the case, then there has to be a spell in here to undo all of this," she opened up the golden binding and began to hurriedly flip pages.

"Whoa whoa _whoa_ , brainiac," Skye stepped forward and snatched the book out of Jemma's hands. "I think we've had enough of the book-learnin' for one day, don't you?"

Hartley rejoined them all with a grim set to her face.

"We need to go," she said.

"Agreed," Skye nodded.

A glance at the camels told them the other half of Shield had already taken off. Skye and Coulson's remaining two Shields worked quickly to pack up anything they'd need from the base camp onto a camel, and then they hoisted themselves up. Hartley kept a tight hold on both Hand and the reins, leaning the fallen teammate back against her as she started the camel trotting. Skye, Fitzsimmons, and Trip were right behind her, breaking their camels into runs as well in their efforts to get out of dodge as quickly as possible.

The last thing they heard as they put the ruins behind them was a monstrous roar flooding the night air.


	11. Magic Hour

Skye came out of the bathroom in her jeans and a fresh change of a tank top, towel-drying her hair.

"Alright, just to double-check, we're clear on the whole 'there's a mummy on the loose' thing, right?"

"Transparently so," Jemma said distractedly, sitting cross-legged on her bed and studying the golden spellbook.

They were back in Cairo and in Jemma's apartment. No one had even checked in with Shield HQ yet to tell the long and grudging story of the rogue Shields and a corpse come to life. Upon hitting city limits Trip and Hartley took Hand straight to a hospital, Fitz headed straight for the university library, and Skye planned to head straight for a shower and maybe a drink or two. Frankly not quite up to being left alone just yet, Simmons offered the use of her own closer apartment for Skye's back-to-civilization needs, so there they were.

"You spent the entire expedition being all science-y with your facts and British disdain for Fitz's superstitious stories, and now you're suddenly all aboard the mummy train?" Skye questioned.

"Well I did see it with my own two eyes, those sorts of things tend to make one rethink one's stance on the supernatural," Jemma peeked her head up from the book just long enough to see Skye.

Glancing up just then is what caused the realization of "Whoa, Pretty Girl In My Apartment" to hit her full force.

"A bit more adventure than either of us bargained for, right?" Jemma asked.

"Right."

"It was a rather eventful few days, and although I seem to recall large amounts of alcohol being a part of it at some point...do I also remember us kissing?"

Skye paused, lowering the towel from her hair.

"...Okay, well, it wasn't really _kissing_ , it was _a_ kiss. As in one. Singular," she said.

"And do I remember us both enjoying it?"

"I mean, I did. I don't know about you, you were like 70% beer and wine at the time," Skye's words came out quickly, almost like a nervous rush.

"I'm sorry Skye, I'm not usually so forward," Jemma's cheeks turned red as she remembered the night more and more.

"I'm not usually into college professors I've only known for a week and met while in prison. We're both a little out of our comfort zones here."

"Oh, that's right, Shield and the Egyptian authorities don't get on very well, do they?" Jemma changed the subject for her own benefit before thinking about her and Skye could make her blush any harder. "I guess that rules out going to the police with our mummy problem."

"The police?" Skye scoffed. "'Yeah, 911? We woke up a mummy who may or may not be evil and after us, can you send someone out right away? Yes, I'll hold'."

"Actually in Egypt it's 122," the professor corrected.

"Because that's the problem with this plan—wrong numbers. Look, I say we leave well enough alone. It's there, we're here, nothing to worry about."

Jemma's eyes narrowed.

"...What? You want to just forget about the fact that there's a walking, talking mummy roaming around the necropolis?"

"Why not?"

"Why not??" Jemma repeated, setting the book to her side. "Don't you watch television?"

"Oh my god, did _you_ just ask _me_ that?"

"Heroes go on journey, heroes encounter mystery, heroes solve mystery, heroes save the day. That's how the story _always_ goes," Jemma explained.

"Except this isn't a story, and I'm no hero. I'm a girl with a job, and I've already done it," Skye asserted.

The professor stood up from the bed and crossed her room.

"So you're just going to do nothing?" she asked incredulously. "What about when Shield asks how the mission went? What about when Shield wants to send out another expedition party to the ruins?"

"I...will...think of something to tell May," Skye shrugged, admittedly at a loss for an answer.

"And what about when my department head wants to know what we found at the necropolis?"

"That's up to you, Simmons. Tell her whatever you want."

Skye ducked away for a second to hang up the towel she'd dried her hair with, then stepped back into the bedroom.

"And what if this thing turns out to be dangerous? You're really alright with just letting it run around unchecked?" Jemma went on.

"Okay, one, it's a walking pile of bones, and two, Trip blasted it to kingdom come. How dangerous could it be?" Skye questioned.

"I—"

"Want a drink. Some coffee, maybe. Teachers like coffee, right?"

"Wait, what?"

"A coffee break, Simmons. It's this thing we Americans call a 'chill pill'."

"...Oh, alright," Jemma conceded with a sigh. "But don't think you've weaseled your way out of this conversation."

"Never in my wildest dreams," Skye grabbed her phone and her jacket, leading the way through the house and to the front door.

She opened the door for her friend and followed her out onto the landing of the apartment building. Jemma locked the door behind her and they started for the parking lot.

"Hey, let's stop by my apartment first," Skye suggested. "There's something there I want to show you."

"Where do you live?" Jemma asked, unlocking her car.

"Just fifteen minutes from here, on the other side of town."

They made the drive through Cairo, keeping up various conversation in between Skye giving the directions to her place.

"Computer science? Really?" Jemma said with a delightfully amused laugh.

"Technology is my thing," Skye grinned.

"That doesn't seem like you," the professor laughed again. "I mean, I realize I don't know you very well yet, but it just doesn't seem like you. Where did you go to school?"

"The orphaned high school dropout, in college? Not likely, Simmons. I taught myself."

"Really??" Jemma practically gasped.

The Shield laughed a little.

"I know, you just thought of me as the swashbuckling badass. Also, remind me to never say 'swashbuckling' again as long as I live."

"Well it seems you've got a bit of nerd in your personality as well," Jemma was impressed.

"Don't tell anybody, I'm a very respected badass."

When they made it to the apartment complex Skye guided them to a parking spot, and they got out of the car.

"Wow, it's nice over here," Jemma marveled, falling into step behind Skye.

"I guess it is. I'm just rarely ever here. You're all-business where whatever the hell happened back at the ruins is concerned, but when you spend as much time as I do in the desert, you learn to appreciate your coffee and shower breaks."

They were in the apartment's parking garage now, walking among resident's cars.

"So what is it that you wanted to show... _whoa_ ," Jemma breathed.

A massive, shiny Harley occupied one of the car spots, glittering even in the dim light of the garage.

"...Surely you don't intend for me to ride on that with you?" the professor went on, having never ridden a motorcycle before.

"I have an extra helmet."

* * *

"...Jemma. No. Look me in the eye and tell me I didn't just hear you say that."

Jemma laughed and took a sip of her latte.

"I'm sorry, I've never seen The Big Lebowski. Until just now I've actually never even heard of it."

"Never even heard of—! Jemma!!" Skye looked utterly offended.

"Well, I'm sure _you've_ never seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

"No, but I've at least heard of it. Unlike you, you're just an uncultured swine."

"Toy Story."

"Oh, thank god," Skye breathed a dramatic sigh of relief. "Mummies I can handle, but tell me you've never seen Toy Story and I'll run screaming from this Starbucks."

Jemma had already laughed so much. She was having a great afternoon with Skye, and all they'd done was sit at Starbucks, talking, drinking, eating pastries, and people watching.

"Pulp Fiction?" Skye went on.

"Nope."

"Tron?"

"I'm afraid not."

Skye let out a breath and picked up a big dollop of whipped cream from her frappachino with the straw.

"Okay, maybe the 80s and 90s aren't your style. Maybe something a little more modern. The Matrix trilogy?"

Jemma shook her head.

"Hellboy?"

Another head shake.

"Alright then, the universal stuff, the stuff everyone and their grandma has seen at least twice. The Men in Black trilogy."

"Actually, I've only seen bits and pieces of the first one."

"Come on Jemma, work with me here!" the Shield groaned.

"We need a movie night," Jemma chuckled.

"No, _you_ need a movie night. The tables have turned and now out of the two of us _you're_ the woefully uneducated one."

"I'll make popcorn."

"...Okay, I'm in," Skye agreed.

They fell silent for a moment as they drank some more of their Starbucks.

"Grease," Skye said with no warning after setting down her cup.

"Is the word."

"Good job," Skye smiled. "So hey, what the heck is Fitz up to right now?"

"Probably scouring through research to find out how a mummy could possibly come to life, like I should be doing. He doesn't have someone trying to distract him from the task at hand like I do."

"Me? A distraction? Never," Skye played innocent. "I just don't get why when the world turns into an episode of Scooby Doo, you want to run _towards_ the monster. Shaggy and Scooby were the smart ones."

"I have a responsibility," Jemma firmly explained. "It very well may have been me who brought that mummy to life."

"With my ex-partner's gun pointed at you. Hardly makes it your fault," Skye ate some more whipped cream off her straw.

"Doesn't matter. I have to go back to the ruins and see what there is to be done. A mummy is merely a person. Maybe there's some danger involved because we're dealing with the unknown here, but there's no need to assume that we're at the mercy of some evil lumbering monster, bent on destroying the world and cursing all who disturbed it."

"It sucked Victoria Hand's eyeballs from their sockets," Skye deadpanned.

"...Ah. Good point."

"And I just so happen to like my sight, so color me unimpressed with the idea of going back to fight it. It's stuck in the middle of the desert—"

"It could wander off!"

"—And we live in an era of machine guns and rocket launchers. It's gonna have a hell of a time destroying the world."

* * *

"Clever idea, coming back to case the necropolis before Shield makes their way here again," Palamas said, holding up her lantern in the dark.

"Yes, clever," Radcliffe muttered, leading the way through the underground corridors with his own lantern.

Like Hartley and the village they'd taken refuge in after the ferry's sinking, Radcliffe had his own secret stash of friends in the desert. A little village just half a day's journey from the ruins was at his disposal, and _unlike_ Hartley's, his village was hip to the modern age. So after dropping off Davis and Sitwell to have their lead-laden legs attended to, Kara, Burrows, and Nathanson followed Radcliffe in a fleet of trucks back to the necropolis, knowing they had a good two or even three days minimum before Shield returned in force, depending on how they decided to travel.

"Burrows, keeping up with that map?" Radcliffe asked over his shoulder.

The rogue Shield was marking and keeping accurate tabs of where they were going on paper.

"Mhm," he grunted, focused on his work.

"Any valuables of the mummy would be kept in or close to his burial chamber," Nathanson noted.

Shield was no Fitzsimmons, but they'd been trained to know a thing or two about the culture they'd been charged to protect.

"Which means if we can just find our way back to that sarcophagus, we're golden," Kara chuckled at her pun.

They moved in silence after that, seeing nothing but sand and stone and nothing that glittered like gemstones or treasure. It was hard to keep a sense of time under the surface like they were, but after what felt like hours Palamas finally called out "There!"

The four rushed to the familiar sight of the burial chamber, with promising passageways to the left and right of it.

"Nathanson, leave your lantern in the entranceway here," Radcliffe instructed, so the chamber could be a waypoint they could find their way back to.

Nathanson did just that while his three teammates stood in the corridor and weighed which direction they should explore in first.

"Uh...hey," Nathanson interrupted after a few seconds, treading further into the room.

"What?" Radcliffe asked.

"...Well, call me crazy, but wasn't there a mummy in here the last time we checked?"

Kara rolled her eyes and stormed impatiently into the room.

"What are you...holy shit," she murmured.

She and Nathanson were staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed into the black sarcophagus when the other two approached to see for themselves.

"...Bloody hell," Radcliffe breathed, running a hand through his hair.

"How the hell did—"

Burrows started to speak, but his words were cut off by the sudden shaking and quaking of the room. An earthquake out of nowhere, tossing and throwing the ex-Shields around with cries of surprise, raining sand and grit down from the ceiling and filling the air with the deafening sound of stone grating against stone. Then, there was another sound cutting through the groaning of earth and frantic noises from Radcliffe's team. A deep, otherworldly voice. Speaking a language that none of them understood.

 _*"You dare come to steal from me?"*_ it said in its foreign tongue.

So fast that they were lucky they managed to catch it happening at all, the ground beneath Kara's feet seemed to liquefy, and in only seconds she was pulled screaming into the floor like quicksand. Gone.

_*"Then I shall steal from you."*_

"Kara!" the three men exclaimed at the same time.

Then it happened to Burrows. He couldn't even fight it. The floor sucked him somewhere far beneath as if the waves of a whirlpool had sprung to life then and there.

Nathanson tried to bolt, but it proved futile. He went down too in a fit of screaming, until only Radcliffe was left in the quake. He feared the worst, his heart seizing as he anticipated the floor to pull him under as well. But he was spared that fate. The chamber stopped shaking just as suddenly as it started, jarring Radcliffe off his feet.

He had no time to breathe any sort of relief, because an invisible force picked him up and threw him across the room like he was merely a toy. He slammed into a wall with a wince and was held there, the unseen force creeping across his throat like fingers in a staggering grip.

And he saw it for the first time.

He was desperate to let out a very unmanly scream as the mummy came into the chamber, but the invisible fingers kept any and all sound from passing through. The mummy drew closer, its face appearing twisted with its dislocated jaw and its eyes entirely too alive and piercing. Soon the two were only inches apart, and the mummy peered into Radcliffe's face with a vicious leer. Radcliffe's only thought was why he hadn't passed out from sheer terror.

_*"This world has changed. I feel it in the very fabric of its being."*_

Radcliffe watched the mummy's mouth writhe and contort to form its words. That was how he noticed his vision tunneling, going black around the edges as it got harder to breathe.

_*"And you, little thief..."*_

Radcliffe's sight hazed and narrowed to a pinpoint, until the only thing left was the center of the mummy's face.

_*"...Will be my guide."*_

Then it all faded to black.

* * *

The sky was tinted with the bright oranges and reds of sunset by the time Skye's Harley rumbled back to Jemma's apartment alongside the professor's car.

"So tomorrow morning we'll go check on Hand, and then you and Fitz are coming to Shield HQ with me," Skye was saying after they disembarked their respective vehicles and walked leisurely to the apartment door.

"And what exactly are we going to tell Shield HQ?" Jemma wondered.

"I haven't gotten that far in my life yet."

They were on the landing now, with Skye looking out at the sunset as Jemma was about to dig out her keys.

"I must say, despite the apparent impracticality, your coffee break in the middle of this mummy madness was a brilliant idea."

"You're welcome," Skye turned back to the professor with a smug grin.

"So...assuming said mummy madness has any chance in hell of getting sorted out, when should I expect that movie night?" Jemma's cheeks turned red.

For whatever reason, Skye wasn't expecting Simmons to actually follow up on that proposition.

"My Fridays are usually free. Unless I'm trekking across Egypt fighting off tomb raiders, in which case I'd give you a heads-up on a raincheck," she said, distracted by Jemma's blush and hoping not to trip over her own words.

Jemma giggled.

"I must say, it's nice getting to know you when I'm not a walking bottle of wine," she said with a smile.

"It's nice getting to know you in general."

Unknowingly, the two stood there on the landing in silence for a few seconds, just watching each other intently. Jemma's mind was repeating her iconic "Good lord" over and over again in her thoughts—holy hell, Skye was just so damn beautiful.

"...Well, since you're such a cinephile, you must be fond of Disney," Jemma began, never taking her eyes off Skye. "Have you seen that one Disney movie?"

Skye laughed under her breath.

"There's a lot of Disney movies, Simmons. Which one?"

"...The one that ends like this."

Skye was the taller of them, only slightly, but just enough for Jemma to have to tilt her head up and make the tiniest reach to kiss her. It was so easy to lean into her, so easy to get lost in her protective frame, and Jemma was perfectly fine with never being found. Likewise, it was easy for Skye to let her arms slide around Jemma as they pulled away for the briefest of instants before kissing again. Skye closed her eyes and felt hands in her hair, threading through the soft brown with the gentlest of touches, making sure that she stayed close.

"...Oh, that Disney movie," Skye murmured against Jemma's lips, her face hot and flushed. "That movie was amazing...but you're forgetting there's a sequel."

Jemma's smile was dazzling as they leaned in again, but the space between them was suddenly filled with the ringing of the professor's phone.

"Bloody hell..." Jemma grumbled right away, her hands falling from the waves of Skye's hair.

Mirroring her, Skye's hands fell away from Jemma's waist and she sighed, partly because the moment had been ruined, and partly out of something strikingly akin to bliss that the moment had happened in the first place. Jemma fished the phone out of her back pocket and just barely glanced to see who was calling.

"Hello, F—"

She couldn't even get the sole syllable of Fitz's name out before a cacophony of chaos came barreling through the other end of the line. Shouts, loud noises, things crashing, and the sounds of general mayhem bellowed through the speaker so clearly that Jemma had to hold the phone away from her ear a bit.

"Fitz??" she finally managed to say, her eyes going wide.

Skye heard the pandemonium herself, frowning in confusion.

"Fitz!!" Jemma raised her voice. A sound that was clearly sprinting footsteps temporarily rose above all the rest, the source apparently very close to the phone.

"Medjai!! Medjai!!" was all Fitz yelled, breathless and winded but still possessing enough energy to make sure his words came out good and frantic.

Jemma jumped at the new sounds being introduced into the conversation.

"Were those gunshots??" she demanded.

Fitz didn't get to answer, and the distinctive noises of the phone being dropped to the floor and Fitz's feet scrambling away were the last things Jemma heard before the bullets and shooting took over again. She hung up and looked desperately to Skye, panic painted right on her face.

"Where is he?" Skye quickly asked, needing no explanation before she switched right into Shield mode.

"He has to still be at the library!"

Without another word Skye grabbed Jemma's hand and they ran back to the motorcycle, hopping on without breaking their stride.

"Skye! What if he's—??"

"Hang on, Simmons," Skye told her.

Jemma did so after they'd both donned their helmets, and the Harley roared back to life, speeding away from the apartment and off towards the darkening horizon.


	12. Books, Bullets, and Black Magic...Again

Guns were indeed a-blazin' when Skye's Harley screeched to a stop in front of the annex of Cairo University where the library was held. In the rush and panic to get to Fitz, a thought didn't occur to Jemma until just now, and a startled professor tightened her hold around Skye from the back of the motorcycle.

"Skye! Your handguns! You left them at my apartment!" she said in a rush.

Skye merely leaned over to the left and right of her bike, pulling one gun each from the previously unseen holster on either side. She dismounted the motorcycle, and Jemma followed urgently.

"Here, you take this one," Skye turned and held out one of her guns.

"What?? Skye, I'm not—!"

"Safety on, safety off," Skye demonstrated, insisting that Jemma be protected. "Safety on, safety off."

Not knowing what else to do, Jemma reluctantly took the gun. Skye moved beside her and put her hand around Jemma's, demonstrating once again and helping her get a feel for it.

"Safety off, lead a little, and pull the trigger. Arms, shooting hands, and legs—aim to incapacitate. We don't know how many are in there, but it's just the two of us. You have to stay safe."

"I'll try," Jemma meekly said.

They raced hand in hand to the front of the building and let go of each other when they reached the doors. On a Monday at this time of night, this part of the annex was typically locked and abandoned, but here the doors were almost knocked off their hinges, and the pair hurried inside. It was dark, the lights off, but not quiet; men shouting, feet stomping down halls, and the occasional barrage of bullets were the main ambiance. Skye moved quickly yet quietly, and Jemma tried to mimic the way the Shield kept her gun held low yet ready to shoot.

"Fitz lost his phone!" Jemma whispered harshly. "How will we find him??"

"Follow the madness."

"I am getting _spectacularly_ tired of all this violence," the professor said in exasperation.

"You and me both, Simmons. Alright, look, Fitz is smart. You know him. In a situation like this he'd lure the baddies away so he could turn around and make a break for it, am I right?"

"Just about," Jemma nodded.

"Okay, so where would he go to hide and let the Medjai run right past him before he scrambled away in the opposite direction?"

Jemma tried to think of the rooms, the little nooks and crannies in this section of the school.

"...The storage room for the media center," she said after some thought. "There's a big window in the wall that looks straight into the room, but Fitz will know how to hide among the shelves."

"He'll expect the Medjai to look through the window, see nothing, and move on," Skye figured.

"Precisely."

"Point the way."

Jemma was so grateful she didn't say "lead the way". She may have been armed, but being the first time she'd held a gun in her entire life, she wasn't trusting her reflexes or instincts should she be out in front.

The noises got louder as they went around corners; they were getting closer to the action. They got a little bit _too_ close when someone's footsteps hurriedly treaded down the hallway just ahead of them, and Skye grabbed an unaware Jemma and ducked them into an empty classroom. The Shield closed the door quickly and quietly behind them, pulling Jemma down to the floor with her and shushing her.

The waiting was unbearable on Jemma's end, but the footsteps passed them by soon enough.

"It probably isn't the best time to mention this, but I have this irrational fear of abandoned schools at night," Skye said, anxiously eyeing the dark classroom around them.

"And I have this irrational fear of my friends and I getting shot at. We've got bigger problems here," Jemma scolded.

"Hey, I said it probably wasn't the best time to mention it. Sheesh, have a cow why don't you?"

"...Oh, I'm sorry," Jemma instantly regretted her stern tone. "It's just that I'm a _history teacher_ , Skye. This gunslinging and action/adventure is far outside my comfort zone."

Skye turned herself so that she was fully facing Jemma, looking right at her through the darkness.

"You're safe with me, Simmons. Three years on the job and not one teammate has gotten killed on my watch."

"Yes, but I'm no Shield."

"No, you're a girl who needs to help rescue her best friend. So trust that the three of us are going to walk out of here without a scratch on us."

Jemma nodded shakily, and the pair got to their feet, creeping back into the hallway.

"...The storage room is just down there," she said, pointing to the right.

Even with marauders yelling and shouting in Arabic somewhere close by in their search for Fitz, Jemma's and Skye's steps sounded oppressively loud along the floor as they reached the space saved for the media center. They passed by the large window in the wall and indeed saw no one inside, but Jemma had been right about her friend's ability to hide, as just when they reached the door to the room Fitz came bursting forth, screaming in warning and wielding a heavy DVD box set of what appeared to be some Egyptian documentary. He stopped short when he saw Skye, who wasn't even threatened enough to accidentally aim her gun at him.

"Jemma! Skye!" he blurted.

"Fitz!" Jemma exclaimed, hugging him in relief.

"What the hell were you planning to do with that?" Skye scoffed, looking down at the DVD set.

"I was going to do _something!_ They're everywhere!"

Skye pushed Fitzsimmons into the storage room so they could talk without being in the open.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was in the library! Researching!" Fitz was frantic, talking a hundred miles an hour. "I was trying to find something on that bloody spellbook when those damn Medjai came crashing through the windows like ninjas, firing bullets left and right!"

"How on earth did they even know you were here??" Jemma asked.

"I have no idea!"

"Problem solve later, it's time to hit the road," Skye urged.

From the inside, she peeked through the window and checked that the coast was clear out in the hallway.

"...What is that??" Fitz asked incredulously when he saw the gun in his best friend's hand. Skye followed his line of sight.

"Safety precautions," she answered simply.

"Safety precautions?" Fitz's tone was skeptical as he repeated the words. "Handing the average schoolteacher a deadly weapon?"

"Deadly only to anyone who gets in her way."

Deciding that was that, Skye led the two out of the storage room and back into the hall, then let out a cry of pain and fell to her knees as a single bullet fired right at her.

"Skye!!" Fitzsimmons yelled at the same time.

The lone Medjai who'd shot stood at the end of the corridor, gun raised for a Round 2, but Skye beat him to it, shooting back and knocking him down. With her gun still in her hand she clutched at her left shoulder where the bullet struck and winced.

"I'm fine!" she said through gritted teeth, standing back up. "Keep moving!"

Back down the corridor in the direction they came did they run, Skye keeping up her lead in the front in spite of her injured arm dragging her down. They were trying to make their break for it before the other Medjai came running to investigate, and it looked like the three were in the clear.

Until they rounded a corner and found themselves face to face with a wave of gun barrels. Skye and Fitzsimmons skidded almost comically to a stop and froze where they stood.

"...You were warned to leave the ruins. You didn't heed that warning. And now you've put the fate of the very planet in danger," a somewhat familiar voice rose from the crowd of the almost thirty armed Medjai blocking the hall.

A single robed warrior stepped out in front of the rest, lifting a hand and pulling back their hood.

"...Professor Sarraf?!" Fitzsimmons gasped.

Skye kept her hand pressed to her shoulder, blinking dumbfoundedly.

"...Life is just turning more and more into one big episode of Scooby Doo."

* * *

"And you're not even going to attempt to apologize for your roguish goons shooting my friend in the arm??" Jemma demanded, storming circles around the Egyptology head's office while the woman reluctantly bandaged Skye's shoulder.

"I've had worse, Simmons, it just grazed me. Not my first rodeo," in spite of her words Skye kept wincing with the pain of her discomfort while she was attended to. "And 'roguish goons' is probably the most British thing I've ever heard a British person say."

"Count your blessings that I did not let them do more," the department head said cryptically.

Fitz's expression fell.

"Professor Sarraf..." he said quietly.

The woman had been their colleague, a trusted friend of both his and Jemma's. And now here she was, openly debating on whether or not to let the Medjai violently finish what they came to start. It was just the four of them in her office, no one making much of an effort to explain themselves.

"I cannot believe you're working with them. I can't believe you're one of them," Jemma said with disgust, stopping her pacing to avidly glare down her boss.

Professor Sarraf met her glinting eyes head on.

"We are not the enemy, Jemma."

Finished with Skye, she gave her a little shove in an effort to silently insist The Shield get the hell out of her good office chair now.

"That's a little hard to believe when all three times we've come across you lot you're trying to kill us," Fitz coldly argued. Then his eyes widened. "...It was you! You're the reason the Medjai found us on the ferry!"

"We came to you about this expedition. You knew we planned to reach the ruins. Why would you even agree to let us go if you were just going to spend the entire time trying to off us before we even made it?" Jemma asked.

"Because by the time you spoke of the ruins you already knew too much. Denying you the expedition would only arouse suspicion and your curiosity. Sending you out on your research trip and having you meet with a little accident on the way was the easiest solution. I could not risk you continuing being allowed to poke into what you have no business in."

Skye dropped into an armchair and raised her good hand.

"Uh, seeing as it's clearly our lives on the line here, I think that makes it our business," she pointed out.

"Please, Professor Sarraf, why are you doing this?" Jemma's pleading voice made a last-ditch effort to appeal to her colleague's better nature.

And it worked, the Egyptologist let out a heavy sigh of defeat and sat down in the huge desk chair of hers that Skye had just finished occupying.

"...You'll appreciate this, Fitz. You've always had a penchant for stories."

The librarian settled in and made himself comfortable leaning back against the wall, folding his arms to match the intimidating and unamused look on his face. Jemma perched on the arm of the chair Skye was nestled in.

"...You three ventured into the desert and made yourselves a new friend, didn't you?"

Three pairs of eyes collectively widened.

"You knew?" Jemma was astounded.

"I've known my whole life what waited beneath those ruins. From birth the Medjai are sworn to protect and defend them, to keep the creature within from ever reigning terror again."

"Again?" instead of Fitzsimmons, it was Skye and Jemma who spoke in unison.

"Yes, this monster has walked the earth before, but in his time he was very much alive. You three know him as Pharaoh Djedefre."

"I knew it!!" Fitz gasped, standing straight up and pointing a finger in an unspoken "Aha!"

"...Oh, good lord," Jemma murmured.

"Wow. So Fitz's big story was true," having seen much in just the short span of a few days, Skye was decidedly nonplussed.

Professor Sarraf nodded.

"Only there is much of the story still left untold, tying all the way back to the tale of Osiris and Set."

Skye gently nudged Jemma with her elbow, and Jemma understood that an explanation was needed.

"In Egyptian mythology, when the gods still ruled the land, Osiris was a king of Egypt. Whether in a grab for power or taking some sort of revenge, Set, Osiris' brother, murders him and takes over the throne," she began.

"The evil guy with a shrine under the ruins," Skye remembered.

"Yes, that is Set."

"Just a minute," something was dawning on Fitz that hadn't dawned on him before. "Set killing his brother and taking the throne...that's like—"

"Djedefre killing Khawab and taking the throne," Jemma finished, in awe that this crazy story of Fitz's was slowly coming to life right in front of them. "Then I guess they really were brothers after all."

"Yes," Professor Sarraf nodded. "Djedefre coveted the crown, that much is known, but what history doesn't tell is how Djedefre was a practicer of black magic. In a mad grab for power, in more ways than one, he struck a deal with the dark god Set. Murdering Khawab would prove him worthy of Set's mantle and grant him the power to seize the kingship and hold all of Egypt in his grasp."

"And the priests of Khufu were the ones who stopped him," Fitz added.

"But Djedefre had grown too powerful to be killed by mortal means alone. Set was defeated by Horus—"

"Osiris' son," Jemma informed Skye.

"—And so it was to Horus that the priests turned to in order to gain the power to put an end to Djedefre's reign."

"Osiris is king, brother Set kills Osiris to become king himself, prince Horus fights uncle Set. That's literally just The Lion King in the desert," Skye muttered.

Professor Sarraf narrowed her eyes at Skye, unamused.

"The ruins are the site of Djedefre's dark palace, which he had built separate from the royal capital as a place to practice and grow his powers. It was there the ancient Egyptians buried him, far away where his presence would burden them no longer," she went on.

"And Djedefre was cursed after his death so that he would suffer for all eternity," Fitz said. "But with the curse trapping him between our world and the afterlife, the sacred bodyguards of the pharaohs would watch over his resting place to stop him from breaking free from limbo and arising again."

"The sacred bodyguards; the Medjai. And all their descendants," Professor Sarraf said. "Djedefre's black magic gave him the power to murder and terrorize wherever he saw fit. Egypt lived in fear, lived in violence, lived in a world where they were at the complete and total mercy of the Pharaoh's twisted whims. When his reign of evil finally ended, the Medjai struck all stories of his magic from the records, fearing the mere mention of his powers would curse the people forever and hoping the dark Pharaoh's memory would simply fade from existence as the centuries went by."

"And as the centuries went by only they held onto that memory," Skye noted. "Thousands of years later you and the others all trace your lineage back to the original Medjai. Not to rain on the sacred duty parade, but it doesn't look like you guys are doing a very good job of that 'stopping him from ever arising' thing."

"For over three thousand years we performed our duties perfectly, until a meddlesome trio went snooping around into what they shouldn't have," the department head snapped.

"Well forgive us for the pursuit of knowledge," Jemma stood up with a glare.

"So what do we do now?" Fitz asked. "The story says the mummy will be a plague upon the earth and the scourge of mankind. We're looking at an ancient apocalyptic prophecy unfolding right before our very eyes."

"You all have done enough," Professor Sarraf coldly told him. "This is the concern of the Medjai, just as it has always been."

Jemma puffed up angrily in a way that Skye found pretty darn adorable given the severity of the situation.

"We are not just going to sit idly by while a—!"

"There you are, Amina."

Skye's reflexes automatically went right for one of her guns when the Medjai leader, Mack, came into the office. He eyed all three of them but gave nothing resembling a greeting or even a hint of recognition.

"It's time to start the hunt," he said to Professor Sarraf. "The creature's going to search for ways to regain his strength and magic, and he's already been roaming loose and unchecked for too long."

The Egyptologist nodded and stood up from her chair. Just as Mack didn't give the trio any sort of a greeting, Professor Sarraf didn't give them any sort of a goodbye. She just met Mack in the doorway of the office, and they prepared to go on their way.

"Professor," Jemma urgently said before they got too far. "The ferry, the ruins, just now in the library...were you really going to let the Medjai just kill us?"

Something in Skye's chest panged at the utter sadness in Jemma's voice.

"The death of a few was well worth the price of keeping the creature buried and saving the world," was all their old colleague said. "Yet I suppose with the creature already free, killing you anyway in punishment will accomplish nothing. Consider yourselves spared."

With that, she and Mack left the room and disappeared down the hall, presumably with the rest of the Medjai in tow.

"...Let's go, Fitzsimmons," Skye slowly got to her feet and rubbed her shoulder, leading the way to the door.

Fitz's sigh was heavy and despondent, but nevertheless he turned to follow her. Jemma stayed in place, clearly very dazed, and very disillusioned.

"Jemma..." he reached out and touched her hand, bringing her out of it.

"...Come on Simmons, let's get out of here," Skye said.

It was a quiet walk back through the building and out to the parking lot, Fitz ending up by his car and Skye and Jemma by the motorcycle.

"What are we going to do about the library?" was the first thing Fitz asked, thinking about bullets, bookshelves, and broken windows.

"I'm sure Professor Turncoat will think of an alibi come Monday," Skye said dryly. "Don't worry about it."

Jemma folded her arms like she was cold, staring off distractedly to the side.

"...Simmons? Hey, snap out of it," Skye softly urged. "It'll be fine."

"Yeah, Jemma. Let's head back to your flat," Fitz suggested.

"Alright," the professor sighed, turning around and climbing onto the Harley.

"Meet you there," Skye said to Fitz.

He got into his car and started the engine; the Shield did the same on her bike. The rumbles drowned out the sounds of the city, and Fitz drove away. Helmet on, Jemma put her arms around Skye and hung on, and the motorcycle revved off into the night.

* * *

"Okay, I don't know if I made this right, but let's keep in mind that I'm only American."

Skye stepped into the living room and handed cups of tea to Fitzsimmons, who were parked side by side on Jemma's sofa.

"I'm sure it's fine," the professor said dully.

"Don't be so trusting," Fitz warned, wary of Skye's American-ness having a hand in his tea.

"She could've handed me a cup of dishwater and I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference right now."

"Ouch," Skye took the comment as an inadvertent diss to her skills and dropped onto the couch beside Jemma.

Fitzsimmons drank their tea in silence for a moment or so, while Skye stared at the dark and blank television in front of them.

"Well guys, welcome to 'My Co-Worker Turned Out To Be Evil' anonymous," she said with a halfhearted smile.

Jemma grumbled something to herself and leaned over to rest her head on Skye's shoulder.

"At least that's that," the Shield sighed.

Those words seemed to rouse Jemma's downtrodden spirits a bit.

"Oh no it bloody well is not," she argued, lifting her head.

"But you heard your boss, the Medjai are going to handle it with their big sacred birthright and whatnot."

"I have not been hunted down on a ferry, soaked in the Nile, shot at by Medjai, held at gunpoint, chased by locusts, stared down by a mummy, and shot at by Medjai _again_ just to give up now!"

She practically rocketed off of the sofa.

"The plan of action hasn't changed. Tomorrow we're going to visit Hand, check in with Coulson's team, go to Shield, tell them what's happened, and start a hunt of our own against this monster. We woke him up and we are going to stop him, understood?"

"...Understood," Fitz and Skye muttered.

Taking her tea with her, Jemma stormed off into the kitchen, leaving the other two alone.

"...'Go ahead, Skye. Crush on the spunky British girl. What could possibly happen?' said I," Skye mumbled under her breath.

Fitz side-eyed her and then loudly cleared his throat.

"As you know, I'm the closest thing Jemma has to a brother, and as such I feel it's my responsibility to have a certain little talk with you."

Skye rolled her eyes.

"Fitz, Melinda May taught me five different ways to incapacitate someone with a finger. Your 'Big Brother' talk won't be anywhere near as intimidating as you're picturing it in your head."

"...N-Nevertheless," Fitz pressed on despite being nervously wary of the combat trained Shield at his side.

"Fitz, I like her," Skye shrugged. "That's pretty much all there is to it. She's this fascinating genius who, bonus, is crazy gorgeous, and apparently she likes me too. It's all very innocently grade school."

"Except for the bullets flying."

"Except for the bullets flying," Skye nodded, completely in agreement.

Calmed down just enough to face the public again, Jemma returned to the living room. Skye spotted her out of the corner of her eye, tilting her head back as the professor passed by the couch.

"Hey, Simmons, I guess I'll head out," she said.

Jemma paused.

"So soon?"

"Long day. Longer one tomorrow. Could get eaten by a mummy in my sleep."

"I wouldn't think that'd be something one would want to get a jump on," Jemma said.

"Well, at least I'll be well-rested for it," Skye stood up.

"Don't forget your other pair of guns," Jemma quickly reminded her.

"Look after them for me? You and Fitz. In case any Medjai come knocking in the middle of the night despite what The Nutty Professor said about not bothering with us anymore."

"...Safety off, lead a little, and pull the trigger," the professor shyly repeated the instructions from earlier.

"That's right," Skye smiled, and then waved at Fitz. "See you."

"Goodnight," the librarian waved back.

"I'll walk you out, Skye."

Jemma put her cup of tea down on an end table and followed behind Skye as she went out the door and onto the landing, closing the door behind her.

"So I'll meet you and Fitz at the hospital tomorrow morning, and then I'll take you to Shield. Trip will probably go with us, but from what he's told me Hartley doesn't leave Hand's side."

"I'd imagine not..."

"Which is why you and Fitz keep those guns nearby, make sure he doesn't leave without one."

"Alright."

The two of them lingered there on the landing in an "exchanging glances" sort of fashion.

"Looks like our movie night is going to end up called on account of face-sucking mummy," Skye said.

"Let me tell you, time is a precious commodity when you're a college professor...and I think you'll be worth the wait."

Skye grinned.

"You think so, huh?" she asked.

"Yes, I do."

"...Thanks, Simmons. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

Skye started to walk, but Jemma hurriedly stepped forward.

"Actually, we didn't get to finish talking about that one movie," she said in a rush.

The other woman stopped and turned back around, confused.

"What movie?" she wondered.

Jemma moved in close just then, looking expectantly at Skye.

"...Oh yeah, that movie. I remember. The one that ends like this."

It was just so incredibly easy to hold her and kiss her, Skye couldn't understand it. Her hands around Jemma's waist and their soft lips pressed close, it was as simple as breathing. She smiled into their kiss when Jemma's fingers once again went up in her hair; if this was their natural reaction then Skye certainly had no complaints.

"...You be careful, Simmons," she said when it was reluctantly over.

"Unlike you, getting yourself shot."

"It's nothing, really," Skye laughed. "I promise, it only grazed me."

"But doesn't it hurt?"

"Oh hell yeah. But still, I'm fine."

Like someone else was in control of her movements, Jemma tentatively reached up and touched Skye's shoulder through her jacket.

"I'm not quite sure what I would've done if something serious had happened.  To Fitz...or to you," she said, her voice very small.

"Is that your British way of saying you care?"

"I suppose it is."

"Well, now that that's out of the way...I care too. About you. And Fitz, oddly enough," Skye chuckled. "So seriously, you guys stay safe tonight."

"We will. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Night."

"Goodnight, Skye."

The Shield left, speeding away on her motorcycle, and Jemma went back inside the apartment. Fitz had the tv on now, and didn't budge in the slightest when he heard the door close.

"About time. What would your crotchety old neighbors think, seeing two hooligans snogging the night away out on the terrace?" he said.

Jemma rolled her eyes.

"We were not snogging, and at this time of night my crotchety old neighbors are all asleep anyway."

She took her place on the couch again, grabbing her tea off the end table.

"Whatever happened to 'she's attractive and I have eyes, that's all there is to it'?" Fitz asked.

"She is attractive, and I do have eyes."

"But that's not all there is to it."

"...No, not anymore," Jemma admitted. "She's starting to see you as a friend, you know. I don't get why you aren't doing the same."

"It's not her, Jemma. Really it's not. It's just the things that happen with her around. I went to my library and got attacked by a line of sacred millennia-old warriors, for crying out loud! When does that happen?"

"...Oh Fitz, that isn't because of her," Jemma's little smile was understanding. "Think about it. Rethink this whole situation without her. Even if Skye and Shield weren't in the picture, you still might've found that key, we would've gone to the ruins, my curiosity about the spellbook would've awoken the mummy even without a gun to my head, and the Medjai would still be after us for releasing the pharaoh. In fact, without Skye around, we both probably would've been shot by now. I think we owe her our lives more than we owe her our misfortunes."

Fitz turned his head a little.

"...You really like her, don't you Jemma?"

The professor turned pink.

"Yes, I do."

"Then I suppose there's no stopping you now. And I suppose when the brawl broke out against Radcliffe's side she _did_ stop fighting without a second's hesitation when she saw you were in danger. I guess she's alright."

Jemma laughed.

"Yes, Fitz. She's alright."


	13. A Curse in Cairo

"Should we have brought something? Flowers? A card??" Jemma fretfully worried.

Fitz slowly shook his head.

"I don't think gifts are appropriate for this kind of situation, Jemma."

"Why not? When is a gift not appropriate? It's a 'Get Well Soon' kind of gesture. Who doesn't appreciate a 'Get Well Soon'?" Jemma's words came out in a nervous rush.

The heat beaming down from the sun of an Egyptian early March was oppressive, and the Egyptology professor's unknowing pacing back and forth along the sidewalk wasn't doing her any favors.

"Well, that's the problem, Jemma. Hand can't get well soon," Fitz pointed out.

"...No, I guess she can't," Jemma sighed.

They both heard the roar of Skye's Harley off in the distance before they saw it, but just seconds later the Shield was turning into the hospital parking lot and cutting the engine. She set her helmet down on the seat and joined Fitzsimmons on the curb.

"Good morning," Fitz greeted.

"It's a morning. Can't say for sure that it's good," Skye replied.

Jemma held her arms out for a hug, and Skye was glad to take her up on it.

"Have you guys gone in yet?" Skye asked, letting her arm linger around Jemma's waist for a few extra seconds before letting go.

Fitz shook his head.

"We were waiting on you."

"Well, let's go then."

Checking in was simple and quick, and Skye let Fitzsimmons do all the talking since her mastery of Arabic was still zilch. The hospital was massive, and despite being pointed in the right direction twice, they still wound up lost for a moment or two before finally finding what they were pretty positive was the right stairwell.

"Skye, let me ask you this," Fitz began out of nowhere as they climbed the steps. "When I came to pick up Simmons this morning I had the tv on while she was getting ready, and—"

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma groaned, apparently seeming to already know where this conversation was headed.

"—Doesn't Hartley look an awful lot like Xena to you?" the librarian finished.

Skye thought it over while Jemma rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I guess she kinda does," the Shield realized.

"Jemma doesn't see it."

"She looks nothing like Xena!" Jemma's tone said she was making her point for the hundredth time.

They made it to Hand's room, and saw Trip and Hartley on the inside through the little window in the door. Skye knocked, and then let herself and Fitzsimmons in. Trip, standing in the middle of the room and seeming to be in conversation with Hartley, who was sitting, looked over at the sound of the door opening.

"Well look who it is," he mustered a smile. Hartley did no such thing, her face just as stern as ever.

Skye raised a hand in a single wave, and Fitzsimmons' gaze was drawn right to Victoria. She was laying down in the hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped around where her eyes used to be. It seemed like something so strikingly ordinary for such a horrific occurrence. It unnerved Jemma, and she lightly pulled both Skye and Fitz closer to her.

"...Hand? Hello. It's us, Jemma and Fitz," she timidly said.

Skye elbowed her.

"And Skye," the professor added.

"Don't bother," Hartley said, glaring down at the floor. "She's on a shit ton of painkillers. Doesn't even know what planet she's on at this point."

Confirming Hartley's words, Hand didn't move or react in any way, shape, or form to her new visitors.

"Any of the doctors ask how this happened?" Skye wondered.

"I convinced them not to," Hartley shadily said.

"When does she leave?" Fitz questioned.

It was Trip who answered.

"Tomorrow, when she's snapped out of the meds. Not like anyone here can do anything for her. Nothing to be done."

"Well, at least she can go back home and be in her family's care," Jemma said.

"Vic doesn't have family," Hartley retorted. "How do you think she got to be such a damn good Shield?"

Jemma's expression blanked.

"...Then where will she go after here?" she worried.

"We'll take care of her. Always have," was all Trip said.

A grim silence settled over the room.

"...Look, you guys have been cooped up in here since yesterday. You need some fresh air," Skye said. "Hand's out cold, there's nothing you can do until she wakes up and comes back to reality. Why don't you get out and eat something?"

"There's a great pub just a couple blocks away from here," Fitz offered.

Skye turned her head.

"Is it the one you stole from me at?"

"No no, that one was just an average pub."

Hartley didn't look like she was going to budge from her chair.

"C'mon girl. We were gonna leave later to head to Shield anyway, might as well get a drink beforehand," Trip pointed out.

"Yes, do join us," Jemma gave an encouraging smile, taking Skye's hand as she did so.

"...Fine," Hartley grumbled.

Then the hospital room was filled with the sounds of rustling and bustling as everyone got up and ready to head out.

"Did you want to ride with Skye?" Fitz asked Jemma, pointing at the window in the direction of the parking lot.

"Oh good lord, no," Jemma quickly denied, before turning sheepishly to Skye. "No offense, but that thing is terrifying."

Skye shrugged.

"None taken. We'll just follow you guys."

"See you there," Fitz said, leaving first with his best friend.

Trip went next, and then Skye and Hartley were the only two left with Hand.

"Come on, she'll be right here when you get back," Skye idly started for the door.

"You and the professor, huh?" Hartley suddenly said.

Skye stopped and turned back around with an endearing, shy little grin.

"Yeah, color me surprised. My sixteen year old dropout self figured I was done with teachers for the rest of my life. I guess not."

"The badass and the nerd," Hartley gave one short, single laugh. "Been there, done that."

* * *

"...And it's not even a necropolis at all, those ruins are the remains of Djedefre's palace, one he had built to practice black magic in secret before he unleashed his full wrath upon Ancient Egypt!"

Even with a dire apocalypse looming, Jemma was an archeologist, and she couldn't help the excitement she felt over this grand and amazing discovery. Trip froze with a hot wing midway to his mouth, from the plate shared among himself, Hartley, and Fitz.

"...You know all this how now?" he questioned, his expression reading like Jemma's enthusiasm put her in lunatic territory.

"Apparently the head of Fitzsimmons' department is some high-ranking sacred Medjai," Skye said, stealing a French fry from Jemma while the professor was distracted.

"Well, makes sense," Trip admitted. "What better way to keep an eye on evil mummy business than as the head Egyptologist of the capital's university?"

"Yes, well, she explained it all," Jemma went on.

"Then that Mack fellow showed up and said it was time for Sarraf and the Medjai to go on a hunt for the mummy," Fitz added.

"Which, according to Jemma, we're not going to take sitting down," Skye muttered.

The professor put on her pouty serious face.

"No we are not. It was by our hand and our interference that this mummy got loose, and it's by our hand that he's going to be stopped before this curse of his comes to pass."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Hartley was skeptical, making a grab for her beer.

"...Alright, I haven't quite gotten that far yet," Jemma quietly said.

Skye quickly came to her rescue.

"May needs to know what's happened, first and foremost. If we're trying to stop an evil walking mummy, unloading Shield's semi-automatic armory on it sounds like a pretty good start."

"Djedefre spent thousands of years in limbo, he's neither alive nor dead," Fitz sighed. "I don't think killing him will be as easy as an itchy trigger finger."

Jemma gave him a frown, shunning his no-can-do attitude.

"Shield needs to know regardless," Skye insisted. "We might not even need an army of semi-automatics in the end. We have Melinda May."

* * *

Radcliffe was thinking about the rather lax security policies of hospitals as he slowly climbed the staircase to Hand's room. He was alone, this part of the hospital still and silent. He could hear each of his shaky inhales and exhales like they were roaring winds. There were all sorts of thoughts racing through his head as he ascended the steps like a walk to the gallows, but the two most prominent were "Gone too far. In too deep."

He reached the room and peered in through the little glass window situated right in the center. Hand was alone, just like he'd been told she would be. So Radcliffe turned the doorknob and stepped inside. She rustled a little at the sound of the door opening and closing; she was slightly more conscious now than she was when Skye and the others had left. He moved further into the room, clearing his throat.

"Hello there, Hand," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the walls or the ceiling, anywhere so he wouldn't have to look at the Shield.

"...I know that voice," Victoria murmured. Her words were bogged down with sleep and medication, spoken through lips too heavy to really move.

The ex-Shield actually looked nervous.

"It's...uh, it's Radcliffe. Thought I'd pay a bit of a visit, I'd heard about what happened," he didn't say from who. "...Honestly Victoria, I never meant for anyone to get hurt. We were just after a little extra money, we were going to take what we could and be on our merry way. There wasn't supposed to be, I don't know, swarms of locusts, and maddening chaos, and people disappearing into the floors. For god's sake, there _definitely_ wasn't supposed to be people disappearing into the floors."

"...What the hell are you talking about, Radcliffe..." Hand spoke her heavy words slowly, but still managed to put some bite in them.

"...I don't want to do this. But Palamas, Nathanson, Burrows, he has them. Says he'll let them go and leave everyone alone if I lend him my help. Everyone..." he paused to clear his throat. "It's part of the curse. Everyone who first discovered his sarcophagus is under it now. You, Trip, and Hartley. He needs to regenerate, and he won't stop until he's hunted the three of you down and...bloody hell, there's no nice way to put this...until he's hunted the three of you down and sucked the life out of you."

Hand was starting to rouse more and more into consciousness.

"Radcliffe...you bastard..." she growled, moving like she was trying to sit herself up.

"I'm sorry, Hand. Everything's spiraled out of control..."

"You're a goddamn rat!" slightly more awake but also slightly forgetting where she was, Hand reached out blindly, trying to find a gun.

And then she heard a growl. A monstrous sort of snarl like something straight out of hell, a sound no creature of earth could ever utter. Then the sound of footsteps, slow and steady, creeping closer and closer to her bed.

Then sounds indescribable. The sounds of evil, and a curse coming to life.

* * *

Twenty-one French fries later, Jemma finally caught Skye stealing them, and actually stopped herself mid-sentence for the sole purpose of glaring at her.

"As I was _saying_ ," she emphasized, turning back to the others as Skye guiltily put a fry back down, "I don't know if we should go to Shield without some sort of a plan first."

"Well we can't all be geniuses like you," Hartley finished off the last of her beer. "We're gonna need a lot more brainpower to figure out how to kill what's apparently immortal."

Trip, Fitz, Hartley, and Jemma all started to partly talk, partly argue amongst themselves over what to do and how to do it. Skye sat this one out, listening to how the voices of the others quickly became an indistinguishable din as the four of them spat out several different half-assed plans and insisted that their own ideas were the best. She lost track of how long it went on for, but just as she was beginning to zone out among the bickering of her friends, something violently snapped her back to reality. Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed Jemma's arm.

"Simmons..." her voice was the smallest and quietest out of everyone's, but somehow it shut the crew up all at once.

"What? What is it?"

Skye didn't look at her when she spoke, her almost glassy gaze was trained straight ahead of her.

"Simmons, where did you leave the spellbook?" Skye asked, her words flat yet rising with panic.

"...The spellbook? It's at my apartment, of course. Why?" Jemma wondered.

With the hand that wasn't clutching the professor for dear life, Skye pointed at the table. Jemma was drinking water, Fitz, a soda. Yet what was in their respective glasses was neither water or soda, but something that was a dark, cringeworthy red.

Jemma gasped.

"Is that—??"

She couldn't even get the word out before people all over the bar simultaneously started spitting out their drinks, coughing and gagging at the terrible taste in their mouths.

"...Oh god. It's blood," Fitz stated the obvious, eyes like saucers.

"...He's here," Skye said ominously.

The five of them jumped up at once as confused and disgusted bar patrons exchanged "What The Hell??" looks with each other.

"Okay, I know damn good and well I'm not the only one who watched The Prince of Egypt in Sunday school," Skye grabbed Jemma's hand and held it tight.

"You went to Sunday school?" Jemma was skeptical.

"Foster family in Texas. Go figure. The locusts, water turning to blood, us smack dab in the middle of Egypt—"

"That definitely spells mummy curse," Trip finished.

"He's here in Cairo," Skye repeated.

"After the spellbook??" Jemma questioned.

"After _something_ , and that something has brought him straight to town."

"Time to get to Shield," Hartley insisted.

Everyone agreed in the way they rushed through the bar in a scramble to get out of the building. A clap of thunder boomed menacingly outside, and a second one followed as Jemma was the first one out the doors and into the parking lot, slowing down and looking around to remember where they'd all parked. Skye skidded to a sudden stop right at the doorway, with Fitz almost crashing into her. Her gaze was drawn right to the sky above them and the thunder that rumbled from it.

"...Oh, shit. Jemma!!"

Skye sped outside, grabbed the professor, and dragged her back into the bar just as fire began to rain down from above. A huge ball of flames struck just feet in front of them, sending a blast of oppressive heat washing over them and sending Jemma and Skye hiding in each other's arms.

Screams came from all directions. The bar, the parking lot, down the block, everywhere. People ran and raced like ants through the street, clamoring to get to some sort of shelter as the flames came down and down.

"We _definitely_ need to get to Shield!!" Trip yelled to make himself heard among the chaos.

"No! Vic!" Hartley protested.

"Oh my gosh, Hand!" Jemma realized the missing Shield was alone and most likely still unconscious in the midst of all this disaster.

Another fireball hit nearby, another searing wave caught them. Thunder continued to crack in the sky like a whip.

"She's at least indoors, isn't that the best place for her right now??" Fitz frantically asked.

"Oh yeah, especially when the building goes up in smoke," Hartley snapped.

Not even attempting to wait on a plan of action, she ran out into the supernatural storm, moving fast and keeping a sharp focus to dodge and stay safe in the rain of fire. Trip clapped a hand to Fitz's shoulder.

"Right now there's no better place to be than Shield HQ, buddy," he said to him. Then he met Skye's eyes. "You gonna help us?"

"Unlike my partner, I don't leave my teammates behind. Meet you at the hospital."

Trip nodded once and followed Hartley out into the storm, weaving through the maze of deadly rain and things already caught on fire here and there. Skye didn't waste a minute.

"We have to get to Fitz's car. Fitzsimmons, do _not_ leave my side!"

"Don't think that'll be a problem," Fitz squeaked.

Jemma was scarily transfixed with the apocalyptic rain of fire waiting before them, as if in some sort of trance.

"...Simmons?"

The sound of Skye's voice brought her back.

"What have we done?" she asked helplessly, turning to the Shield.

"Oh, you know. Poked around a cursed tomb, read some magic words, saw a lot of bugs," Skye said. "I haven't known you guys for very long, but it seems like par for the course for us."

"I never imagined death by rain of fire," Jemma glumly muttered.

"For the millionth time this week, we are not going to die," Skye said.

She looked out at the storm and took Jemma's hand again, lacing their fingers together.

"It's just like dodgeball, guys. High intensity dodgeball. We can handle this. Just...run fast."

With that, the trio took off, feeling the scorching heat in the air. They made it to the safety of the car in seconds, and as Fitz fumbled with the keys a flash of lightning and its following thunderclap split the sky. And then, as if the fire wasn't enough, the hail started to come down.

"Bloody hell!" Fitz yelled.

The pieces of ice bouncing off the roof of the car and the pavement created a horrible roar. Jemma squealed and covered her head with the hand that wasn't holding Skye's.

"For crying out loud, gimme that!" Skye let go of her and snatched the keys from Fitz's hands, unlocking the car and letting Jemma inside first to crawl her way to the passenger's side before diving into the driver's seat herself. Fitz leapt longways into the backseat, just barely having enough time to sit up and put on a seatbelt before Skye turned the engine and hit the gas.

The car screeched through the parking lot and onto the street, where Skye worked hard to veer around fireballs, other cars, and flailing people, on top of fretting over whether hail was going to shatter the windshield or not.

"Not to worry, gang," she said loudly so Fitzsimmons could hear her. "I had a van in high school. If you can drive a van you can drive anything."

"Oddly enough, I'm not comforted," Jemma sternly announced.

"I'm also a whiz at Mario Kart."

"Mildly comforted," the librarian piped up from the backseat.

"Thank you, Fitz."

Rules of the road meant nothing at the moment, and Skye drove them Fast and Furious-style through the streets of Cairo, swerving through lanes, drifting around corners, and bouncing Fitzsimmons all around the car. The fireballs and hail only got worse the closer they got to the hospital, and when they finally reached the building Skye hopped the curb to get them as close to the main entrance as possible so they wouldn't have to risk imminent death the second they stepped outside. Skye only glanced for a moment, but didn't see the car Trip and Hartley were using, and figured she and Fitzsimmons were the first ones there.

Inside was pandemonium. The three burst into the lobby to find visitors screaming and scrambling, some doctors and nurses attempting to maintain order, some doctors and nurses flipping their shit entirely, and an overall scene of sheer chaos.

"Let's go!" Skye drew one of her guns and led the way to Hand's room.

They slipped by completely unnoticed down the halls and up the staircase. When they came to the right corridor Skye was so focused on just getting to Hand's room in one piece that she almost missed the familiar face turning tail in the opposite direction just ahead of them.

"Radcliffe!!" she shouted, holstering her gun.

He turned around at the sound of his name, saw Skye, and had just enough time for his eyes to bug out of his head before she had her hands around his collar and shoved him roughly against the wall.

"Hey there, you little weasel!" she hissed.

Radcliffe gave a fumbling and desperate smile.

"G-Good to see you, partner! Crazy weather we're having, yeah?"

Skye skipped the idle chitchat and punched him square in the jaw, knocking him out into a crumpled, drooling heap on the floor.

"May's gonna want a little word with you," she said, glaring down at her unconscious ex-partner.

Right at the door to Hand's room, she got her gun ready again, clicked off the safety, and kicked the door open. With the gun aimed and her finger on the trigger she ran right in, stopping short almost instantly.

It was Hand, or more accurately now, Hand's corpse. Shrunken, shriveled, laying in the hospital bed all dried out, gaunt, and leathery. Jemma felt like she should be screaming, but all she could do was cover her mouth with her hands in an unheard gasp. Fitz turned pale and looked vaguely nauseous.

And then there it was.

The mummy Djedefre, on the other side of the room with his back turned towards the three. Skye and Fitzsimmons were morbidly transfixed as they watched. The mummy was writhing and convulsing on his feet, and before their very eyes he seemed to regenerate. Sinewy flesh appeared and grew from nowhere, covering parts of his skeletal body here and there, torn ligaments mended themselves, twining together again. Muscles pulsed along his arms and legs, and the not-quite-decayed but not-quite-living skin grew around them. It was only a partial regeneration, he was still very much a menacing and rotted corpse, and he turned around to face his visitors with a mighty, monstrous roar.

Skye's finger was frozen on the trigger, like her brain had crashed and couldn't get her to pull it.

"...We are in serious trouble."

It was only when the mummy snarled and started for them that she snapped out of it, pulling out her second gun and shooting at the creature. The bullets did nothing to him, sinking right into the walking corpse or blasting straight through and shooting up the wall behind him. He just kept walking, striding towards Skye with a gleam of evil in his stolen eyes. Fitzsimmons dived out of the way right before he reached them, ducking for cover behind one of the armchairs. The Pharaoh paid no attention to them at all, grabbing Skye without even breaking his stride and throwing her clear across the room. She sailed through the air, slammed into the wall, and fell to the floor.

"Skye!!" Jemma had already shot forward to go to her, but Fitz grabbed his best friend around the waist and yanked her back behind cover before bravely going himself to check Skye on Jemma's behalf.

The Shield groaned, her body ached with shots of pain, but she was unharmed and unbroken, albeit a little dazed and unaware that Fitz was right there at her side.

It was then that Hartley and Trip sped in, out of breath and guns at the ready.

"...Vic," Hartley breathed, seeing her mummified body right away. "...VIC!!"

"...Oh, hell no," Trip growled under his breath and shot at the mummy too, figuring it wouldn't do much but not knowing what else to do.

The creature turned his ire on them just as it did on Skye, getting riddled with bullets as it closed the few feet of distance between them. Before the Shields could react the mummy drew back an arm and swatted them down like flies, and they collapsed to the floor beside Skye.

Now Jemma managed something a bit like a scream, a strangled and strained one. Djedefre whipped his decayed head around and snarled at her, beginning to approach her slowly. She didn't dare make a break for it, all she could do was back up inch by inch, futilely, as inch by inch the mummy crept closer.

_*"...You have something of mine,"*_ he spoke in Ancient Egyptian with a horrid, guttural voice, his jaw moving in twisted ways that no human jaw should ever move.

Jemma's heart sunk when she took her final step backwards and felt the wall bump against her back. Nowhere to go now.

_*"You have something of mine, and I want it back."*_

The mummy cornered her, and leered in just inches away from her face. The professor's heart sunk some more, then seemed to stop entirely.

"T-the spellbook," she whispered.

_*"MY spellbook!!"*_ the Pharaoh emphasized with a roar. Jemma shuddered. _*"You tell me where it is now...and your death will be painless."*_

Death threats only lasted so long when Skye came in out of nowhere, back on her feet and punching the mummy right in the jaw with a left hook.

In a move no one was expecting, he exploded into a massive cloud of sand upon impact, whirling through the room as a living dust devil, blowing about anything that wasn't nailed down before shattering the glass of a window and disappearing into the world outside.

"And stay the hell away from her!!" Skye yelled after the dust storm.

The silence was abrupt and jarring. When the creature was gone the fireballs and hail stopped instantly, and the shock of it briefly halted the panic happening just outside the room in the rest of the hospital. Forget abrupt and jarring, the sudden silence was practically deafening.

"...Did you just deck an ancient walking mummy in the face?" Jemma demanded.

"Looks like it," Skye dusted sand off her knuckles.

"...That was incredibly hot," Jemma was suddenly a little breathless.

"...Radcliffe," Skye said the one word and then darted away, gripping the doorframe as she poked her head out into the hall.

Hartley had shuffled to the head of the hospital bed, eyes locked on Hand's rigid and disfigured body. It almost didn't even look like her.

"Not like this, Vic..." Hartley's voice was tired. "You were too good to go out like this..."

"Radcliffe is gone," Skye stepped back into the room.

Trip turned around.

"He was here?"

"Emphasis on 'was'."

Fitz worriedly ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hand..." he said quietly. "Why would the mummy come after her?"

"Didn't you see? The answer was right in front of us," Skye told him. "He regenerated. The thing is barely a step above a bag of bones; a stray breeze should bowl him over, and suddenly he's throwing people across rooms? He has to go all soul-sucky to get his power back."

"And if this is what he can already do so fresh out of the grave..." Jemma thought about the plagues of Egypt coming to life, the mummy's strength, his power to drain the life out of the living.

"...We are in _very_ serious trouble," Skye said again.


	14. What Fresh Intel is This?

"...I don't understand. This is just an abandoned hangar," Jemma said in confusion.

Skye rolled her eyes.

"Wow. Simmons, the sky just rained fire. Are you really questioning this, of all things?"

When they'd gotten outside the radius of the hospital, they discovered that the rest of the city had gone untouched by the mummy's curse. Here, along the riverfront, they were far enough away that they couldn't even see any of the damage. If they hadn't been in the thick of it, it would've seemed like a completely normal day from way down here. Their only clue something was off was the wailing of firetruck sirens in the distance.

Skye took Fitzsimmons inside the hangar, a vast expanse of empty space all around. Jemma could tell it hadn't been abandoned for long, it was nowhere near a horrid state of disrepair.

"You're headquartered in an empty, unoccupied hangar. What a fun day at work for you," Fitz dryly said.

"You know, for two archaeological geniuses, you guys suck at looking beneath the surface."

She knelt down and put her hand on the floor, much to the confusion of Fitzsimmons. They leaned over her, trying to see what in the world she was doing, but before either of them could formally question it, a series of beeps flitted through the air.

Then the hanger began to quake, jolting Fitz and Jemma on their feet, and right in front of their eyes a section of concrete floor began to slowly slide backwards with a loud grind, revealing a stairwell descending downwards.

"...Just what kind of a vigilante group is Shield??" Fitz sputtered.

"A very well-funded one."

It was an entire underground bunker they walked down into, and how far it went, Fitzsimmons didn't know. The stairs ended in a long corridor of stone and brick. It reminded Jemma very much of the university, with many doors lining both walls and horrid fluorescent lighting. Not to mention, the place was crawling with people.

When she thought of Shield, she pictured only a handful of members or so, trained and dedicated but still, few in number. But _this_ , she decided, watching the busy traffic of Shields weaving through just this one hall alone, _this_ was a proper organization.

"Skye!"

A woman poked her head out from one of the rooms, saw her fellow Shield, and hurried out into the hallway to meet her.

"You're back? What the hell is going on out there??" she demanded, coming to a stop in front of the trio.

"That's a really general question Piper, you're gonna have to be more specific," Skye heavily sighed.

Piper turned and led the way back into the room she'd just come out of, where a big flat-screen hanging on the wall was showing the aftermath of one hell of a weather report; sunny with a chance of apocalyptic fireballs.

"Oh. That," Skye said simply, watching news crews and firefighters swarming the scene, interspersed with various cell phone videos of the rain of fire. "That's a long story, actually. Where's May?"

"Her office," Piper sighed, knowing by the set of Skye's face that she wasn't about to get the long story for herself.

"Great, thanks. Oh—Piper, Fitzsimmons. Fitzsimmons, Piper."

"Hello," Jemma and Fitz waved.

Piper, still woefully confused about the whole situation, just stared.

"Come on guys," Skye held Jemma's hand as she took her and Fitz out into the corridor and expertly led the way through the Shield compound.

"This place is _massive_ ," Jemma said in awe, being woven around corners and down hallways.

"Shield operates all throughout Egypt, Simmons. We're bigger than you think."

"That's become apparent."

May's office was deep within the base, and they found her standing in front of her desk, very focused on the tablet in her hands and not at all concerned with the news on the tv behind her.

"...Fitzsimmons, you remember Melinda May, director of Shield," Skye said.

May merely glanced up for a fraction of a second, then went back to typing away on the tablet.

"Skye. You're back. Care to explain why I sent a team of twelve into the desert and only three are standing here right now?"

"That's a long story, actually," Skye said again.

"I don't have the time for stories."

"You're gonna want to make time for this one, especially seeing as it concerns the mini-apocalypse right outside our door."

That got May's attention for a little bit longer this time around.

"You mean you know about why the rain of fire happened?" she questioned.

Skye's eyes widened.

"...You mean _you_ knew it was drizzling pyrotechnics and you didn't even bat an eye? May, I know you're spectacularly badass, but come on."

"Hardcore..." Fitz whispered.

"Fine. If you have a story to tell, then tell it," May conceded and nodded at the chairs in front of her desk. "But make it fast."

"Fitzsimmons, help me out here," Skye said as the three of them all sat down.

"Well, I suppose we realized something was amiss when our ferry was ambushed by a band of hooded marauders," Jemma began.

"That was our first clue, yes," Fitz shyly agreed, intimidated by the steely set of Melinda May's eyes.

"So we abandon ship, I eighty-six the boat, and we wash up on shore lost in the middle of the desert until Hartley rings up some nearby village friends of hers and we resupply to make it to the ruins."

May just continued to watch them, clearly expecting the rest of the story.

"...Wow, May. Did you even hear me? Ambush, mystery men, grenades. _Emote_ just a little, would you?"

The director did no such thing. Skye let out a deflated sigh.

"Alright, well, moving on—"

"What did you find at the ruins?" May interrupted.

"A hell of a lot, but that's not even the point. What we found doesn't matter, at least not the material part of it. Yes, we made several pretty big finds down in those ruins, but the site isn't safe. Radcliffe, he..."

Skye suddenly found it hard to say the words.

"Radcliffe is a Shield traitor," Jemma finished for her.

"Him and the whole team, to be exact," Fitz muttered bitterly. "Sitwell, Davis, Palamas, all of them. It was us and Coulson's Shields against them when they pulled out their guns and threatened to loot all the artifacts."

May's expression didn't waver.

"A traitor," she icily repeated. "Radcliffe and the others have turned tomb raider."

"Minus the attractiveness of Lara Croft, but yes," Skye said.

May reached up a hand to switch on her previously unnoticed earpiece, glancing off to the side as she spoke.

"I need Morse and Hunter in here. Now," she said.

Skye rose from her chair.

"Hang on, Radcliffe is the least of our worries right now," she told her boss.

"Oh really? A rogue Shield with both the knowledge and know-how to find and raid every last archaeological site in Egypt?"

"Bad, I agree, but believe me—we have bigger fish to fry. There was something...some _one_ underneath those ruins."

It was obvious in that instant that the director didn't buy it for a second, but before May could even open her mouth to ask on the steps of which sacred temple had Skye slipped and smacked her head on, Simmons jumped in.

"There was a sarcophagus deep within the complex, an undiscovered mummy. We thought only of the sheer academic and scientific value of such a discovery until in the face-off against Radcliffe's team, I read aloud a resurrection from an ancient spellbook and brought the creature back to life."

"Now he's walking, talking, and out to fulfill a curse that's already started here in Egypt and will very likely spread until the whole of the earth is caught in its grasp," Fitz finished.

From day one it was clear that Melinda May had no time for smiles, but here, after listening to Skye and Fitzsimmons, she apparently had time for semi-amused smirks.

"You know I don't believe in fairytales, Skye," she said.

"Believe in this one," Hartley came striding right into the room with Trip behind her. "The mummy walks. And Hand is dead."

"...Victoria Hand is dead?" that seemed to catch May off guard more than any mention of supernatural mummies had.

"Only I'm not so sure 'dead' is the right word for it," Hartley snapped.

"They're telling the truth, Director May. We all are," Trip somberly said. "A three thousand year old Pharaoh is up and running and we're all doomed if he gets where he wants to be."

"The rain of fire was only the beginning," Fitz's tone implored May to believe him, and he sat forward in his chair. "We're dealing with the mummy of Djedefre, the legendary monster king who turned out to be not quite as legendary but still every bit a monster."

May didn't pay any attention to him.

"What killed Hand?" she asked.

"The mummy!!" all five of them answered at once.

The Shield director slowly shook her head back and forth.

"I think you guys spent a little too much time out in the desert sun."

Again as a group, the other Shields and Fitzsimmons let out little sighs and grumbles of frustration. May understandably didn't believe them, and their word alone really wasn't much to go on in a situation like this. But then Skye lifted her head, and all the telltale signs of a lightbulb going off read on her face.

"Let me use the computer," she said.

May made a "be my guest" gesture and Skye sat herself behind the desk, typing away in an instant. Jemma stood up and followed her, peering over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she wondered.

"Hacking into the hospital's CCTV feed."

"Isn't that illegal??"

"Only if I get caught."

Skye went too fast for Jemma's eyes to keep up; searching through files, looking deep within folders, bypassing all manner of security clearance, until finally several different video feeds opened up on screen. Jemma right away recognized the view of the hallway outside of Victoria Hand's room, and Skye looked at the timestamp.

"Damn, this is live, and it's not the right feed," she grumbled.

Jemma frowned, confused.

"What do you mean? It's the hallway by Hand's room."

"Yeah, but I'm trying to get to a camera with a view of the outside. Remember, how the mummy went out the window?"

Skye typed something, and then was able to rewind the camera footage in front of her.

"I'll have to go back in and—whoa, hang on..."

She paused on the hallway camera. Jemma leaned in.

"...That's Radcliffe!" she blurted.

Now everyone, May included, hurried to crowd behind Skye and see what she was up to.

"That's right, Radcliffe was there when we were coming up," Fitz remembered, seeing the video footage of the ex-Shield slowly making his way down the hall.

"Question is, what was he doing there?" Jemma murmured.

They all watched as Radcliffe entered Hand's room. The activity in the hall died after that, so Skye fast-forwarded until she saw Radcliffe hurrying back into the corridor, then herself and Fitzsimmons coming into frame just seconds later.

"Just a tick..." Fitz began. All eyes turned to him. "We saw Radcliffe go into the room. We saw Radcliffe leave the room. But when we got there, the mummy was already _in_ the room."

"Meaning what?" Skye questioned, keeping her eyes trained on the computer screen, studying the camera feeds with her fingers poised and ready to start hacking away again. "We didn't see him on the video, you're saying the mummy's gone Invisible Man now too?"

"No, I'm saying that the dark Pharaoh with the power to call forth the biblical plagues of Egypt probably has the power to teleport himself from place to place."

"A bit like apparating!" Jemma caught on. "So if Radcliffe goes into Hand's hospital room, comes across the mummy, and leaves without appearing exceptionally shaken or bothered..."

"He's working with that thing," Hartley grimly said.

Skye glanced up over the top of the monitor.

"Look, the guy is slime, but he isn't evil," she denied.

"He was going to shoot Jemma," Fitz sternly reminded her.

"But teaming up with a cursed world-hating mummy is a whole other level."

"Hartley and I have worked dirty deals before tracking down stolen treasures, we know what shady characters and questionable partnerships look like," Trip said.

"I'm sure they know what they're talking about, but I've yet to see any proof of this 'mummy'," May pointed out.

"Right, the other cameras," Skye went back to work cracking through the hospital's files, trying to see if there was indeed a video feed to anywhere outside of Hand's room that might've caught the mummy's dramatic exit.

For a minute or so she cycled through different cameras trying to identify the right view.

"Skye, you'll never find it that way. Narrow it down to the right time first," Fitz suggested.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know hacking was part of your Egyptology degree."

"It's not hacking, it's common sense."

Skye took the suggestion nonetheless, hacking her way into the already-recorded CCTV footage and pinpointing it to the hour and a half or so ago that the whole mummy incident went down.

"...See! There!"

Skye pointed May's attention to a camera locked mainly on the parking lot that just so happened to also catch something else; a massive swirl of sand blasting past, twisting and twirling in the air—melding into the distinct shape of a screaming face as it ghosted past the camera. She replayed it again and again for May's benefit.

"...This mummy is real, May. So is its curse. It started at the ruins and now it's here in Cairo, and if you and the rest of Shield don't help figure out how to stop an ancient immortal, it's going to end with the world."

To her credit, May remained as cool and collected as ever, pulling out her phone and holding it to her ear like she was doing nothing more than ordering a very spontaneous pizza.

"Coulson. You're gonna want to get here. Fast."

That was all she said before hanging up and directing her attention back to the crew.

"What _exactly_ did you all do at those ruins?" she wanted to know.

"It was business as usual until TraitorGate 2017, I swear," Skye began. "We got there, surveyed the site, and we all split up to explore within the ruins. Coulson's crew found the sarcophagus with the mummy completely intact, Fitzsimmons and I found a book made of gold."

"It was a rather exciting day, we were celebrating our discoveries," Jemma added.

Skye picked back up from there like she and Simmons were running on the same brainwaves.

"When—get this—we're attacked by the same gun-toting goons who ambushed the ferry. So Radcliffe figures they're treasure hunters, and in turn figures there's something worth finding at the ruins," she said.

"Then he and the others make their grand reveal—"

"Fucking Radcliffe thinks a book made of gold is going to lead the way to more treasure, so he points a gun at Jemma and forces her to read from it—"

"Which is when we were all made painfully aware of the fact that it was really a spellbook belonging to the cursed mummy and that I'd just recited the spell to bring him back to life."

Everyone automatically and unknowingly relegated Skye and Simmons to the role of official storytellers, continuing to watch and wait for more even after they'd stopped speaking in tandem.

"Oh, and we think the mummy is here in Cairo to track down his spellbook and once again unleash his evil powers of darkness on the world," Jemma finished.

"'Again'?" May repeated with a scary frown.

That was where Fitz came in.

"You see, you sent us to those ruins to follow the map bearing the seal of the Pharaoh Djedefre. The story of Djedefre killing his brother to gain the throne is a well-known myth in the archeological community, but as it turns out, it's _not_ a myth, Djedefre _did_ murder his way to the throne, and he also practiced powerful dark magics that made all of Egypt suffer at his mercy until he was assassinated himself and cursed to an eternal limbo," he explained.

"And I'd imagine he's pretty darn pissed about that last part," Skye said. "Makes for a fairly decent motive to come back and wipe out the world."

"Where is this spellbook now?" May asked.

"At Jemma's apartment," Skye answered.

There was a sharp knock at the door to the office, and two more Shields came in.

"You rang boss?" one of them asked, sidling into the room with a taller woman at his side.

"Gear up, you're going with Skye on an artifact retrieval mission," the director said.

"Details?" the woman asked.

"I think Skye is probably the best one to fill you in right now."

Skye slowly stood up from the desk, looking confused.

"Wait a minute, Bobbi and Hunter can handle it on their own, someone should stay here with—"

"I need it to be done, Skye. Not discussed. Fitzsimmons will be perfectly safe here," May told her.

Not needing to say anything else, Skye just slowly nodded, and left the office with Jemma and Fitz right behind her. Hunter and Bobbi lingered with Trip and Hartley, beginning to talk to May as the door shut.

"...So the plan is to retrieve the spellbook and bring it back here?" Jemma asked Skye.

"Apparently."

"And what happens after that?"

"Not a single clue."

"And what if the mummy has already beaten you to the book??"

"Again, not a single clue."

"Well there has to be a better plan than that! They can't just send you wandering around half-cocked with an evil monster on the loose, surely Shield has the time and resources to come up with something even _marginally_ better. Because what if the mummy's there? The evil and murderous face-sucking mummy? You and the others could walk right into him and he could unleash his face-sucking powers which is horrible because I happen to rather like your face and—"

Skye silenced Jemma's crazed rambling by taking her hands.

"Simmons, we'll be in and out. No big deal. Yeah?"

Fitz was busy trying to blend seamlessly into the wall. The professor was hesitating in her answer to Skye.

"Simmons, for real, look at this face. This face you rather like. Would this face lie to you?" Skye put on a comical puppy dog expression, making Jemma giggle a little.

"...In and out," Jemma gave in. "You promise?"

"I promise. Hunter and Bobbi are top Shields, the three of us wouldn't be safer with anyone else but each other."

"Well, then..." Jemma freed one hand to reach into her pocket. "Here's the key to my apartment, I left the spellbook in my room. In and out."

"In and out."

"Oh for crying out loud, just kiss her already," Fitz groaned, seeing in both girls' eyes that they were looking for their window to do so.

Jemma made time to give him a judgmental scowl while Skye leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Bobbi and Hunter came out of the office then, meeting Skye in the hallway and welcoming her back from the expedition.

"May says you'll explain what the hell this is about on the way?" Bobbi prodded.

"Yeah, I will."

"Let's get to it then, mates," Hunter started down the hall. "Come on Bobbi, we're gearing up."

Bobbi followed his lead. Skye gave one last nod to Jemma and Fitz.

"Back in a flash."

And then she was gone too.


	15. Cat and Mouse

"Pretty solid damage here. Clearly it could've been much worse, but cripes."

Lance Hunter was fixated on the view outside the window of the Shield van as Skye drove him and Morse through the firestorm-ravaged part of the city. Flames blazed from both high among buildings and low to the ground, with nowhere near enough firetrucks in sight. He was right though, things could've been far more catastrophic, but even still, the scene was bad.

"So you're saying a _mummy_ did this," Hunter went on. "Like a shrively bloke, wrapped in toilet paper, lurching around going 'grr, arrgh'?"

"Pretty much," Skye nodded. "Except he's not so shrively anymore, too rich to settle for toilet paper, and lurches around saying shit in Ancient Egyptian that only Jemma can understand."

"Huh. Shoulda brought her along then. Have her play translator and tell the ghoul we come in peace."

"We don't come in peace, and Jemma stays within the safety of Shield," Skye resolutely said.

Hunter turned away from the window with an impish smile.

"Ohhh, worried the shrively bloke is after your lady friend, yeah?"

Bobbi reached over and smacked his arm.

"The mummy came right at her when we were visiting Hand in the hospital. It knows she has the spellbook, and if it can't find the book, it's going to find her," Skye explained. "So yes, Jemma and Fitz stay at Shield, where no damn mummy is going to get past our biometrics scanner."

"And what happens when we get the book back to Shield?" Bobbi asked.

"No clue," Skye muttered. "If reciting one dumb spell was all it took to start this mess, maybe another spell can end it. And maybe Jemma can look through the book and find it. At any rate, just keeping it out of the mummy's hands is an accomplishment in itself, that thing is strong enough without it."

They went through the city as fast as they could, slow-going at times with parts of the road blocked for firetrucks and ambulances. But they made it to Jemma's apartment complex nonetheless, and Skye brought the van to a stop at the curb.

"Come on. In and out," she said.

The three of them piled out onto the sidewalk; Bobbi and Hunter followed Skye as she led the way to the right apartment. At the door, she was just about to reach into her pocket for Jemma's keys, but froze.

"...What?" Hunter questioned.

Skye held her hand out and pushed the front door open easily—it had been unlocked, and ajar. She took out a gun.

"Not good..." she said over her shoulder.

Hunter and Bobbi followed her lead and readied their own firearms.

They went inside, and the place was a mess. The couch cushions were overturned and thrown on the floor, as was an end table and its matching lamp. They could see into the kitchen where drawers and their contents had been dumped haphazardly onto the floor; it was like the apartment had been hit by a tornado and one painfully familiar sight was in the middle of it all.

"You!!" Skye ran forward, putting her gun away as she did so she could have both hands free to grab Radcliffe's collar and contemplate ringing his neck.

Radcliffe hadn't known the Shields were in the apartment until just then, and once again he found himself nervously facing his ex-partner.

"Skye! Hello there, old bean! Been running into each other quite a bit today, haven't we?" his smile was hard-pressed with the vicious gleam in Skye's eyes and the other Shields' guns aimed at him. "And Bobbi! Lance! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of Radcliffe, eh?"

Skye shook him by the collar to bring his attention back to her.

"Tell your new boss the public library is on the other side of town," she said dangerously.

"What are you talking about? I'm just here...um...doing a bit of..."

"A bit of shoplifting for mummy dearest, right?" Skye finished. "You're working for that thing, aren't you?!"

"Well I like to think of it as more of working _with_ —"

"Shut up," Skye growled. "What's in it for you, Radcliffe? Is the Pharaoh hooking your sticky little fingers up with treasure upon treasure for helping him out?"

"Honestly Skye, the tomb raiding thing was never going to be permanent," Radcliffe began. "We weren't out to get obscenely rich, we were just after a...a yearly bonus, of sorts. And we were going to sell right to private collectors, no black market dealings that might put the artifacts at risk. Couldn't have been more harmless."

"Yeah? Tell that to Victoria Hand."

Radcliffe's face fell.

"It was either her or them. No matter which way I chose, someone would've gotten hurt," he said.

"Them who?" Bobbi demanded.

"All the others. Nathanson, Burrows, Palamas, all of them. Sitwell and Davis got to sit the journey out on account of being shot in the bloody leg, but the others, they're trapped. We ran during the locusts, hid out at a village and came back to loot the ruins. We didn't know about the mummy, but suddenly there it was. The ground began to shake, and everyone sank down into the floor and disappeared like it was quicksand, I've never seen anything like it."

"And you were the lucky winner. Hooray," Skye wasn't moved.

"If I help him, he lets them go. He's weak in this new world, and he needs the spellbook."

"Tell him to take a raincheck," Skye snapped. "Nice of you to play judge and jury, deciding that Hand's life is worth less than your friends'."

"That wasn't my doing! It's part of his curse! The spellbook will only help so much, in order to regenerate and truly regain his powers and strength he needs to drain the life force of those who first discovered his sarcophagus and disturbed his resting place, meaning Hand..."

"...Hartley," Skye's eyes widened.

"And Trip," Hunter and Bobbi said together.

"...There's no stopping him," Radcliffe somberly told them. "Trip and Hartley are essentially marked for death."

"The hell they are," Skye turned around and dragged Radcliffe along with her like a rowdy child.

"Whoa, wait, what are we doing?" Bobbi questioned, lowering her gun.

"We're going back to Shield, warning Coulson's team, and I'm making a big bag of popcorn so I can kick back and watch my partner here get a new one ripped right into his—"

A chorus of earsplitting screams shrieked together from outside the apartment, and the Shields exchanged one brief look with each other and then ran out the door, toting Radcliffe behind them.

People scrambled through the parking lot, hightailing it in various directions or stumbling backwards in their haste to move—away from _him_. The mummy stood among all of them, clad in tattered robes that hung from him the way his dried and ancient flesh hung from his skeletal form like strips of leather.

"...Oh, bloody buggering hell," Hunter stood there gaping.

Skye's mouth opened in a silent gasp.

"...He heard us. He knows."

Bobbi frowned, managing to tear her eyes away from her first glimpse of the mummy.

"What?"

"He knows Hartley and Trip are at Shield!!" Skye yelled, panic rising.

With that inhuman and monstrous roar, the Pharaoh burst into a dense cloud of sand and flew through the air, twisting and whirling like a cyclone. Radcliffe wrenched himself free and began to run, with Morse and Hunter barely even getting a few feet after him before Skye stopped them.

"Forget about him! We have to go!"

She hurried down the parking lot herself, aiming to make a beeline for the van, but likewise only got a few feet herself before she too stopped.

"Start the car!" she told Bobbi.

The cloud of the Pharaoh was already beginning to disappear from sight, getting far ahead of them as he mystically searched out the path to Shield headquarters. Skye sped back into Jemma's apartment and darted into the bedroom, needing only a few seconds before she found the spellbook and raced outside once more. Bobbi had taken "start the car" to the next level and already had her foot down on the gas when Skye came their way, making the Shield take a running jump inside through the door Hunter had left open, then slamming it closed and righting herself in the seat.

"Follow that sand?" Hunter guessed.

"Follow that god damn sand," Skye ordered.

Bobbi stepped on it, screeching the van out onto the road and catching the sandstorm flying ahead of them. Skye kept one hand around the spellbook and made a grab for her cellphone with the other, dialing up May's number right away. She could just barely hear the dialtone over the roar of the van's engine as Bobbi pushed seventy, and the phone just kept ringing and ringing.

"Come on!" she hung up and dialed again, not even fazed by the hard lurch she and Hunter made as Bobbi swerved around a corner, chasing down the Pharaoh.

"How the hell does he know where he's going??" Bobbi wondered, veering around traffic.

"Probably some kind of evil...mummy...GPS type..." Skye trailed off distractedly, looking out the window. "...Is that thing turning around?"

It was hard to tell with the speed of the van, but soon it became clear that the sand cloud _was_ changing course, winding around and coming back towards them. In the shape of a giant face.

"...Aaaand now he knows we have the book," Skye deadpanned.

A pillar of sand came down like a giant fist and pounded the road beside them, just barely missing them and splintering the asphalt like it was nothing but wood.

"Oh, for shit's sake!" Skye chucked the book, freed her hand to grab a gun, and tried to call May one more time.

Bobbi looked over and rolled down the window for her, sending a spray of sand into the car as another fist-like attack came crashing down. Skye leaned out the window and started firing, counting on Bobbi to steer them out of harm's way. Hunter reached up and slid open the sunroof as Skye's growl of frustration rang out at May not answering.

The Pharaoh attacked them from the front then, a billow of crushing sand striking right in their path that Bobbi only narrowly managed to avoid. Hunter, poking out of the sunroof now, took his chance to fire off a few rounds into the sand, hoping beyond hope to make some sort of a dent. Letting him take the lead for a second, Skye sat back in the car to reload her gun, staring at her phone before she did so.

"Who else, who else..." she muttered to herself, mind racing among the chaos to think of someone, _anyone_ who would actually answer when she called to warn that an evil Pharaoh was on his way.

"Elena!" Bobbi suggested, hands gripping tight around the steering wheel.

"Yes! Good! Good plan!" Skye called, kept the phone held to her ear with her shoulder, and loaded another round of bullets into her gun.

The sandstorm rushed them head on, violently jolting the van, sending Hunter tumbling back into his seat, and cracking the windshield.

"Leg it, Bobbi!!" Hunter yelled. The Shield kicked it up to eighty.

They were hit from above, sand flooding in through the sunroof, almost sending them spinning off the road as Bobbi was temporarily blinded by grit in her eyes.

"Yo-Yo, thank god!" Skye breathed a sigh of relief when the Dialtone That Wouldn't Die finally ended. "I need you to find May, alright? Find May, and tell her I said that Trip and Hartley _cannot_ leave the base under any circumstances. Unfortunately, she'll know what it means."

Elena Rodriguez's voice crackled with static, cutting in and out unintelligibly.

"...Yo-Yo? Hey, Yo-Yo!"

Skye couldn't understand a word being said on the other end of the line, and there was no way to tell if Elena could understand her in return. The windshield spiderwebbed some more as the sand came down again.

"Maybe now would be a good time to crack a book and read us a spell, eh love?" Hunter desperately asked.

Skye leaned out of the window just long enough to shoot off four bullets.

"My ancient dawn-of-time Egyptian is rusty, genius, and by rusty I mean completely nonexistent," she denied with a scowl.

"Well somebody needs to do something!"

"On it," Bobbi announced. "Taking a shortcut!"

That was her way of warning Skye and Hunter to hang on, which they did as Bobbi crazily turned into a narrow alleyway, barreling through trashcans and piles of empty boxes stacked and ready for a dumpster. Skye thought the phone interference would clear up as they temporarily got away from the mummy, but no such luck. Finally, she gave up entirely on calling ahead.

"Any plans besides 'Lead the Psychotic Pharaoh Straight Back to the Base'?" Bobbi asked.

"...Pull over," Skye suddenly said.

"You're insane, right?"

Skye only answered with a serious look, and Bobbi rolled her eyes before hitting the brakes and stopping the van. Skye hurriedly crawled over Hunter and Morse, making them scoot down across the seats so she could get behind the wheel.

"I told Fitzsimmons I was a whiz at Mario Kart," she explained. "Now is not the time to let them down."

Their brief reprieve ended when the sands of Pharaoh Djedefre found them again, Skye saw the sandstorm coming up the alleyway in the rearview mirror.

"And three...two...one...race."

The tires squealed and the van took off like a shot down the remaining length of the alley, zooming back out onto the street with the mummy close behind. It took all Skye's focus and concentration to keep her eyes on both the road and the cloud of mummy magic behind them, and even more concentration to get her timing just right—and it paid off.

She bobbed and weaved crazily around other cars on the road, and the available street grew shorter and shorter as an intersection approached. She slowed down, just the tiniest bit. Let the Pharaoh catch up. Let the sandstorm get right on their tail. And then, sharply around the corner, so sharply the Pharaoh couldn't keep up. The sand plowed right into the side of a building, and Skye punched the gas again.

"We lost him!" Bobbi turned around in her seat to see.

Skye shook her head.

"Yeah, but not for long."

They raced through the city that way, cat and mouse, ducking here, throwing the mummy off there. By the time the hangar was just in sight, Skye had managed to put some distance between the car and the sandstorm, but it wasn't much. The high-pitched shriek of the tires filled the air as the van skidded to a stop and the three scrambled out, Hunter with the book in tow.

"Haul ass!!" Skye yelled out.

And they booked it to the hangar. Skye figured she'd never done so much running in her life until she met Fitz and Simmons. The cloud loomed behind them, closing that short distance. They could hear the ominous winds roaring louder and louder.

Inside, Skye dove right for the biometrics scanner in the floor while Bobbi hit a control panel on the wall, slowly grating the hanger doors shut. At the same time, the section of floor hiding the stairs started to slide back. Everything moved far too slowly for their liking, and the sands were now seconds away. They scurried down into the base as both the hangar and the stairwell cover were closing behind them, but still the mummy's presence drew closer. Skye hit the floor of the base, took out her gun, turned around and aimed, heart racing as it was down to the wire whether all the doors would close tight before Djedefre got there first.

"Come on...come _on_ ," she spoke like the sound of her voice alone would spur the doors closed faster.

It was like everything in the hangar moved in slow motion while the mummy moved at hyperspeed. Skye could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She had no clue if they would make it.

And then they were sealed in, safe as houses. The sounds of a pounding sandstorm battering the hangar was the last thing Skye heard before the stairwell entrance closed above her.

* * *

 "Okay, I have some bad news...where's Fitz?"

Skye found Jemma sitting alone in a hallway, with Fitz nowhere in sight.

"One of the Shields is letting him poke around your archaeological archives. Knowing him he'll likely be spending the rest of the afternoon there...and what bad news?"

Skye shuffled over and sat down in the hallway chair next to Jemma's, leaning forward and clasping her hands together.

"Well...your apartment is trashed," she grimly said. "Radcliffe got there first, the mummy got there next. He sent Radcliffe to find the spellbook, and now the place is a wreck."

Jemma's face fell heartbreakingly.

"Oh, no...all my things, just tossed and thrown around..." although clearly hard for her to do, she bravely mustered a positive smile. "Well, Fitz and I will get it all sorted out, I guess. And I suppose if it's too bad there I can always just stay with him tonight."

"Whoa, hang on," Skye raised a hand. "The apartment was just part one of the bad news, which leads me right to part two—the mummy knew where you lived, Simmons. And on the way back, he knew how to get to Shield. If he can find your place, and this place, then he can definitely find Fitz's place, and I'd rather not risk either of you taking that chance."

Jemma's smile became easier to hold.

"You realize you've only known us for a week, Skye. You're really that fond of us already?" she asked.

"Alright, I admit Fitz and I got off to a rocky start—"

"Exceptionally so."

"But he's a good guy. And you? ...I like this thing you and I have between us. I'd hate for it to end before it really even got started."

"Do you suppose we'll survive long enough to see where this goes?" Jemma weakly laughed.

"I think—and this is my professional opinion here—that you...are the most intriguing and beautiful woman I know, and I will pull out everything in my Shield bag of tricks to make sure we survive long enough."

Skye's smile was bright and sincere, turning even brighter at the way Jemma bashfully glanced down at the floor.

"Which means you and Fitz stay here at HQ tonight," Skye went on. "We have plenty of spare bunks. A lot of us work crazy hours, it didn't take long to figure out that we needed some places to crash here."

"But I don't have any of my things," Jemma frowned.

"The bunks are completely set. Spare clothes, shower stuff, everything. I mean, my room is here too, I have pjs you can wear. It's no big deal. Nothing as fashionable as your little pink kittens, but better than nothing," Skye offered.

Jemma whapped her on the arm.

"You said you thought they were good luck!"

"I say a lot of things."

* * *

 Skye knocked lightly, waited until she heard Jemma's quiet "Yes?" and then slid the door open.

"Hey," she greeted, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

Jemma was sitting cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas (Skye's pajamas, technically), and looked over at the Shield when she came in.

"Just thought I'd check on you," Skye said.

"Good thing you did," Jemma laughed half-heartedly. "I tried going down to Fitz's room earlier, but he's already out cold."

"Why? What's wrong?" Skye frowned worriedly, wondering why Jemma needed to putter around so close to midnight.

"Oh, nothing's wrong," the professor hurriedly said, seeing the concern on Skye's face. "It's...well, it's just a little lonely here. I miss my apartment. Would you believe that expedition was the first time I've really been away from home since Fitz and I moved to Egypt?"

"Ah. Homesick. I've read about the feeling," Skye teased.

"Granted, I did get to spend the one night in my own bed, in my own room, when we came back from the desert, but still. And now Radcliffe's gone and turned the place upside down, and there could be an evil mummy watchdogging the front door...yes, I'm just a little homesick is all. What's that you've got there?"

Skye looked down at the boxes tucked under her arm.

"Oh, uh, just a little midnight snack. In case you were hungry. I didn't know if you were a Fruity Pebbles or a Cheerios kind of girl, so I brought both," Skye said.

Jemma scooted over on the bed, silently inviting her up. Skye went over and sat next to her, holding out both boxes of cereal. Jemma took the Cheerios.

"So, since you're one of the few people still awake around here, any word yet about how we're going to deal with our mummy problem?" Simmons asked, tearing into her box.

"Well, as May's right-hand girl and the closest thing Shield has to a second in command, naturally, I am completely in the dark," Skye joked. "I think she's waiting on Coulson to get here before she 'officially' goes ahead with anything. He'll be here by morning. So I guess we're in a holding pattern."

"I've been watching the news," Jemma nodded at the tv in the room, playing at zero volume. "Nothing else vaguely catastrophic has happened. It looks like Djedefre has fallen back for now."

"Maybe he's afraid of the dark," Skye said under her breath, laughing to herself. "Well, fine by me. I know the world's in peril and all, but I could use a breather."

She ate a handful of Fruity Pebbles, literally biting off more than she could chew and dropping a couple down the front of her shirt. Jemma giggled.

"I've had a long day," Skye explained.

"Haven't we all. I'm glad you're here, though."

Skye leaned backwards on the bed and rested against the wall, lazily turning her head to look at Simmons.

"Hey, Jemma, you could've come and gotten me if you wanted to," she said.

Jemma looked a little surprised.

"Oh, no, I would've been fine. I wouldn't want to bother you over something so trivial," she shook her head.

"You don't bother me. I know what it's like to need someone to just sit next to you for a little while."

Jemma's spirits fell a little, as did her guard. Skye could see it on her face.

"Well...now that everything's begun to settle down for a little bit, I've been thinking about Hand," Jemma admitted, losing her appetite and setting the box of cereal down on the bedside table. "No one I've known has ever died before."

"...Same here. I've seen a few close calls, being Shield and everything, but we've never actually lost anyone."

"Do you think Hartley will be alright?" Jemma asked.

"Yeah. Eventually. She's tough as nails."

With no warning, Jemma suddenly leaned over and hugged Skye tight.

"Promise me you won't get your face eaten, okay?" she said quietly.

Skye smiled.

"Promise. And, Jemma, don't think I'm not enjoying this, but you're squishing my Fruity Pebbles."

Jemma let go of her and couldn't keep back a laugh. Skye joined her, the two laughing easily and good-naturedly like one of them had just told the funniest joke in the world.

While up top, at the entrance to the base, a tiny river of sand was slowly and silently sliding its way down the stairs.


	16. Playing Games

Skye was jarred awake by the abrupt absence of the whirring of her ceiling fan. The whooshing of air above her was a sound she counted on to lull her to sleep every night, so much so that even unconscious her mind was startled by the silence. And after a tossing-and-turning sort of sleep out in the desert, a comfortable Skye in her own comfortable bed at Shield was in no mood to be woken up at the moment.

She sat up with a sleepy grumble just as someone knocked on the door to the bunk, so lightly she wouldn't have even heard it if the fan wasn't off. Another grumble, a soul-deep yearning to have a good night's sleep, and then she pushed the messy hair out of her face and rolled out of bed. She used the flashlight on her phone to guide her to the door, squinting a little, and she slowly slid it open to find Jemma. The professor also squinted in the light, with her fist raised to knock again. She lowered it when she saw the shape of Skye behind the fuzzy halo of light.

"The power's out," Jemma said.

Skye looked out into the hallway, absolutely pitch black.

"I noticed."

"Couldn't sleep without the fan."

"Me neither."

"Ran into a few walls on my way down here, to be honest."

Skye tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

"There's a breaker box a couple halls over," the Shield came out into the hallway and closed the door to her room behind her.

She shuffled down the corridor with the phone flashlight as her guide, and Jemma was right behind her.

"God, I am so sleepy," the professor yawned.

"Mm," Skye grunted, too tired for a verbal reply herself.

"Rolling blackout, perhaps? They're a dime a dozen here in Egypt."

"Mm."

"Am I to take it you're not a morning person?"

"...Morning?"

Skye focused her bleary eyes and actually looked at her phone. Almost 3:30 a.m.

"Ugh," she groaned, dramatically feeling like her very soul was about to break free of her body and go racing back to bed.

Step by step, she was beginning to wake up, and as she did, and the gears in her head started turning, she drew to a stop.

"Wait, Jemma...is just our power out? Or is the whole base out?" she turned around to the professor and frowned.

Jemma shrugged.

Instead of continuing to make her way to the breaker box, Skye wandered from hall to hall instead, poking her head down one and then investigating the next ones over. Blackness all around.

"...HQ is dark," Skye said definitively. "Nothing we can do about it."

Jemma sighed, and resigned herself to going back to her bunk and attempting to sleep through the silence. Wordlessly, she and Skye both began the walk to their own hallway. Skye already knew she wouldn't be able to sleep through the silence, and just sighed in lamentation of her lost rest.

"Looks like I won't be sleeping tonight. I guess I'll just go back to my room and watch tv or someth—"

"No power," Jemma interrupted.

"Dammit. Right, whatever. Well, my phone battery is running low, so I at least need to head back and charge it before—"

"No power."

" _Dammit,_ " Skye comically stomped a foot.

"Since we're both up, and there's a mummy on the loose, maybe we could get started on a little research," Jemma suggested.

Skye rolled her eyes.

"Oh no, you're not roping me into that one, professor," she scoffed, grenading the idea of work entirely. "And besides, how do you expect us to do any research when the power is out?"

"Well, you see Skye, before the advent of computers and the Internet, there were these marvelous inventions that have still survived to this very day called 'books'. And how they work is—"

"Haha, you're a million laughs," Skye gave Jemma a little shove. "How about you just come repel from my ceiling and make whoosh noises?"

"Not bloody likely."

* * *

"Is it...smaller than a bread bin?" Jemma asked.

Laying on top of her bed, Skye narrowed her eyes and lolled her head to the side, where Jemma was laying and staring at the shadows that Skye's phone flashlight threw on the ceiling.

"Would you quit leading in with that??" the Shield disapproved. "No one uses freaking bread boxes anymore, Jemma. I don't even know my grandmother but I'm sure _she_ doesn't even use one. This is the high-tech age, Simmons, we have preservatives."

Jemma giggled.

"Is it smaller than a bread bin, Skye?" she repeated.

The other girl sighed heavily.

"No."

"Ah, then it's bigger than a bread bin."

"Brilliant deduction."

Jemma kicked her.

"Ow! Hey, it wasn't my idea to sit in the dark and play 20 Questions!" Skye scooted over to the far side of her bed, out of kicking range.

"No, your idea was to sit in the dark by yourself and play mahjong on your phone," Jemma retorted.

"And?"

"Good luck with that at twenty percent battery. Neither of us are getting back to sleep until the power is back on, so you might as well stuff it and play the game."

Skye rolled over, still keeping her distance but leaning on her elbow and casually resting her head in her hand.

"You're cute when you get all pouty, you know that?" she grinned.

The phone's flashlight illuminated the whole room, and Jemma could see the smile clear as day.

"...No, I did not know that," she said shyly.

"Well you should. You're cute, you're gorgeous, you're pretty, you're beautiful, you're everything in the book."

"And _you're_ just trying to distract me from the game," Jemma figured, not fooled for a second.

"Because it's boring as hell," Skye laughed. "Listen, since you're such a good friend, I'll save you nineteen steps; it's my van. I'm thinking of my van."

Jemma rolled over too, facing Skye's side of the bed.

"What happened to it?" she wondered.

"A van's not exactly a carry-on item, Simmons. Had to leave it behind in the States. And it wasn't easy, either, that thing was my home," Skye reminisced.

"Fitz's first car was like that," Jemma unknowingly nodded to herself. "He essentially lived with me and my family, but finally being able to go out on his own, not relying on my mum and dad for rides—he really did feel bad asking for rides. My parents were happy to oblige, of course, but he often ended up feeling like a bother. At any rate, his first car really was like a second home to him."

As Jemma had just nodded, Skye shook her head.

"No, I don't mean it was like another home to me, that van _was_ my home," she clarified.

"...You lived in your van?" Jemma said quietly, realizing.

"Dropping out of high school didn't earn me any favors with my foster family," Skye spoke easy and casually, like she'd made her peace with it, but the set of her face said otherwise.

"...But then you came to Egypt and found Shield."

"Shield found me. And kept me. Three years, Simmons. You know that's the longest I've ever stayed in one place?" Skye laughed sadly. "Which is why Radcliffe's going to get a fistful of Skye for betraying us the way he did. I never really got what it was like to have a family...but now that I'm starting to, I know that no one's going to mess with it."

"...You've a wonderful sense of loyalty for someone who's never been shown any," Jemma said admirably. "You're incredible."

"You think so, huh?"

"I daresay I know so."

Skye rolled over and laid flat on her back once more, staring lazily at the ceiling.

"Let's play again," she said.

"Yeah? Alright. Is it smaller than a bread bin?"

"Jesus, Simmons. No," Skye grudgingly answered.

"Person, place, or thing?"

"Person."

"Ooh, person. Is it a celebrity?"

Skye shook her head.

"Damn, that makes it a bit harder," Jemma muttered under her breath. "Is it someone here at Shield?"

Now Skye nodded.

"Oh great, I don't really know any of the Shields...is it a man?"

"Nope."

Jemma thought.

"I'm not sure how to ask questions about people I don't..." she trailed off, and then a lightbulb clicked on in her head. She rolled her eyes. "Skye, is it me?"

"Yep."

"Oh, honestly..." Jemma chuckled.

Skye's eyelids were suddenly feeling heavy, and they slowly started falling shut.

"You should do audiobooks," she very drowsily said. "Or let's just knock on doors to see if anyone has the first Harry Potter book laying around and you can read it to me."

"What?" Jemma laughed, wearing a confused but entertained smile.

The Shield was losing the fight to keep her eyes open.

"I like your voice..." she mumbled, curling up on her side and facing Jemma.

"Lovely, I put you to sleep. Just what every teacher wants to hear," Jemma teased.

"A person can't sleep unless they're at peace," Skye peeked one eye back open with the tiniest of smiles. "It's a compliment. You help bring peace to this whirlwind little world of ours. Told you you should've hung from the ceiling and made whoosh noises."

"Well, should I leave now and let you have your rest?"

"I'm not asleep yet."

"Then what else should I say? Shall I recite Shakespeare for you? Because, FYI, I don't know Shakespeare."

"What? I thought all British people knew Shakespeare," Skye settled more snugly into her pillow. "It's like, ingrained into you guys from birth. You learn your ABCs, your 123s, and your Midsummer Night's Dreams."

Jemma burst out laughing, but Skye didn't rustle, just smiled at the sound.

"That was clever, Skye! Really quite clever."

"It's been known to happen," Skye was back to mumbling, too tired to make the effort to really move her lips.

As carefully as she could, Jemma got off of the bed, and quietly moved around to Skye's side. Carefully again, she pulled and tugged on the covers from underneath Skye until she could drape them comfortably over the Shield. She was tiptoeing away, almost to the door, when the mother of all banging noises resounded from above them. The professor jumped, and Skye jolted upright, instantly alert again.

"What in the hell??" she demanded.

Jemma wouldn't admit the sudden scare made her heart race, and tried her best to act cool and calm.

"Problem with your air conditioning?" she meekly suggested.

"The AC isn't running, Simmons," Skye threw the covers off and got out of bed, stilling herself right away as she listened.

"Good grief, that was loud," Jemma felt the obvious needed to be stated.

Skye continued to listen, and with no warning the banging came again, not from above, but from somewhere out in the hall.

"Raccoons?" Jemma ventured another unsure guess.

"In Egypt?"

Although part of Jemma's theory didn't pan out, Skye couldn't deny the other part.

"Something's moving up there," she said.

Another metallic thump, even further down the hall. Jemma gasped.

"Skye, you don't think..."

She didn't even need to finish. Skye's eyes widened.

"...Well I didn't until you just mentioned it," she hissed.

Then she crossed the room to get to her nightstand, yanking a drawer open and taking out a gun.

"I typically keep chargers in my end table drawer," she noted, exhibiting some surprise at how readily armed the Shield always seemed to be.

"You have your practicalities, I have mine."

From a second drawer she procured a second gun, handing it to Simmons.

"You remember how?" she asked.

Jemma timidly nodded. Skye made a quick grab for her phone, and then went to slide the door open. Simmons was right behind her as they shuffled out into the corridor together, Skye shining the light all around and keeping her gun up and ready in her other hand.

"How, Skye? How could Djedefre have gotten in?" Jemma asked in a harsh whisper as they crept down the hall.

"Let's not jump to conclusions, let's just be prepared."

"But what will we do?" Jemma went on, rising panic evident. "If there's a mummy on the loose, we've no power, Hartley, Trip, and the spellbook are all here, and we're all sitting ducks?? What will we do??"

"Fucking keep calm, for one thing."

She turned a corner, and kept her ears open for the movement in the vents above them.

"...I do wish we were in something other than pajamas," Jemma frowned and looked down at her attire as she walked. "We don't exactly look intimidating."

"Speak for yourself. I'd hate to run into me in a dark hallway no matter what fashion choices I was making."

"Should we wake someone up?"

Creaking and a crash came from the hallway to the right, up in the vents again.

"God, this is like a horror movie. I don't have the stomach for this," Jemma groaned.

"Just relax, Simmons...I'm going up there," Skye said.

"What??" Jemma blurted. "The power of the word 'relax' is completely negated when followed by 'and by the way, I'm going to go crawling around the evil mummy vents, be back in a bit'. Enclosed spaces and danger, Skye, not a good combination."

"You're forgetting I make my living on enclosed spaces and danger."

There was a grille just ahead of them, and Skye dragged a hallway chair over.

"I don't like this plan," the professor said.

"That's why you're going to stay there, play lookout, and be prepared to run screaming in the direction of May's office," Skye stepped up on the chair.

The latches holding the grate closed were popped open easily, and the cover fell open.

"I monumentally do not like this plan," Jemma said again.

"I'll just take a quick look first, don't worry."

With gun in one hand and phone in the other, Skye stood on her tiptoes and used her knuckles to lift herself up into the ventilation system. It took a bit of maneuvering and no small bit of strength to fandangle herself so that she could shine the phone flashlight the way she needed to, but she got the whole ventilation shaft illuminated.

And there was Djedefre just a little ways down the vent, hunkered down on all fours in the crawlspace, glaring eyes shining viciously in the light.

"...It would figure," the Shield sighed.

The roar of the undead seemed to shake the entire shaft as Skye dropped back down into the hallway. She knew she didn't even have time to close up the vent again in a futile attempt to buy a few seconds, all she and Jemma could do was run.

They turned tail so fast that they didn't even see the mummy plummeting into the corridor, they just felt and heard the massive whoosh of sand behind them and sped as fast as they could around a corner.

"Djedefre's in the building! Djedefre is _in_ the building!!" Jemma yelled out as she ran.

"Yep, that's a problem!" Skye yelled over her shoulder.

At the end of the hallway, apparently knowing exactly where she was and exactly what she was doing, Skye slammed the side of her fist against some sort of panel fitted into the wall, and blaring sirens and a volley of flashing red lights filled the entirety of the compound.

"What on earth is that??" Jemma demanded.

Skye yelled again so she could be heard over the sirens.

"Emergency Shield lockdown! Sealing the bunks and all the other rooms! No one gets in and no one gets out!"

Jemma followed frantically after the light from Skye's phone, recognizing quickly that she was leading them on a series of twists and turns to shake the mummy. The professor had absolutely no clue how far or how fast they were running, but the exertion caught up to both of them, burning their legs and their lungs. Upon rounding the next corner Skye made a grab for Simmons and dragged them both towards the wall; they pressed themselves flat against it like if they tried hard enough they could disappear into it and hide forever.

The sirens shut off seconds later, and the flashing red lights stopped too.

"...I don't hear anything," Jemma panted.

Skye turned her head and raised an eyebrow, breathing heavily.

"The Shields, waking up, panicking, sounds of general mayhem and confusion," Jemma elaborated.

"Not all the Shields are here, Jemma. Only a few ever need to stay overnight at a time. Not to mention, we don't exactly panic."

"Well, excellent, but what are we going to do now? We've yet to find a way to hurt this thing and he's wandering the halls unchecked!"

Skye paused to catch her breath and think at the same time.

"...We know why he's here, he's after Trip and Hartley to fully regenerate and finish out that curse. We have to warn them," she said.

Unlocking her phone with the intention of going straight to her contacts, she froze halfway there.

"Uh...we may have a slight problem," she mumbled.

"And what could _that_ possibly be?"

"I'm at nine percent," Skye turned the screen out to show her the dismal battery percentage.

"Phone dies, no light...bloody brilliant. When I thought about us holding hands in the dark it was more on the romantic side, not the 'trying desperately to avoid getting separated and trapped like rats in a nefarious dark Pharaoh maze' side."

"You've thought about us holding hands in the dark?"

"That is neither here nor there," Jemma said petulantly.

"Yeah, well, it's a conversation we're definitely coming back to later," Skye smirked, held the phone up to her ear, and went quiet. "...Trip? Yeah, it's exactly what you think. Look, call Hartley, fill her in and just...just sit tight and get heavily armed until I figure out a plan."

Jemma cleared her throat.

"Until Simmons and I figure out a plan," Skye automatically corrected. "Keep an eye out. Bye."

The professor leaned over towards Skye a little.

"...Eight percent," Jemma caught her look at the phone.

"Don't worry, I can totally handle this. I've played Five Nights at Freddy's."

"Oh, dear lord...alright, we need that plan we just mentioned. We've got to think of someway to deter the Pharaoh, get him out, and keep him out."

"Okay, he's got magic, and he's got super strength. If we had a way to put a hold on the magic, I could go and—"

"Fight three rounds against supernatural strength and stamina?" Jemma chided.

"You just don't let him get his hands on you and it'll be fine," Skye shrugged.

"Veto."

"Well Madame Brainiac, why don't _you_ try to think of—"

Skye cut herself off right then and there. There was movement coming from a nearby hall; slow, dragging shuffling and scuffing sounds. She lowered her phone to her side so the light wasn't quite so obvious, and without saying another word, she and Jemma started tiptoeing backwards, quiet as mice.

Their instincts screamed at them to move faster, even to break into a frantic run, but they couldn't risk making any noise. It felt like an agonizing lifetime, but eventually they backed up to safety a few halls down, and they could hear the noises no longer.

"Alright, here's the deal; you think, and I shoot," Skye whispered.

"Bullets will get us nowhere, Skye!" Jemma's own whisper was hissed and harsh.

"Enough bullets will get you anywhere. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about, I've played Resident Evil 7."

"I think you'll need a bit more ammo than what you have now," Jemma dryly pointed out.

"You're right," Skye agreed right away. "Okay, piece of cake, just do what I'm doing and think of it as a game. Team Skimmons. Main objective, kick the mummy's ass. Side quest, resupply at the weapons closet."

She took a second to get her bearings, figure out just where exactly they'd scuttled off to, and then started off on the path that would lead them to one of Shields many, many weapon storages.

"I'm sorry, but what the bloody hell is Team Skimmons?" Jemma questioned with a wicked frown.

"You know, Skye and Simmons put together. Skimmons. Like, if the Internet got ahold of us, that would probably be our ship name."

"You are unbelievable."

"Don't I know it," Skye raised her gun out in front of her, at the ready.

Jemma, not trusting of herself, kept her own gun lowered as they carefully traversed the halls, lest her nerves accidentally get trigger happy.

The longer they went on, the more hyperaware they became of every tiny little sound. Creaks from above, from the walls, thumps and thuds, noises suspiciously like footsteps, natural groans of the underground, groans of the hangar weighing down on the base, all of it. And even Skye, with all her super impressive video game training, felt the tension beginning to stretch her thin like a rubber band pulled further and further.

"...Here it is," Skye spotted a wide door and crossed the hallway, drawing to a stop at it.

"I thought you put the base on lockdown?" Jemma questioned, thinking a room full of weapons would definitely be on the list of top ten areas to seal off in an emergency.

"I did. But being practically second-in-command has its perks."

Skye flipped open the previously unseen cover of a hidden panel in the wall. It revealed a keypad, with two tiny red lights fixed into it. She typed in a code, and one light turned green. Then she typed in a completely different code, and the second light turned green. In the clear, she opened up the door. The weapons closet really was no larger than a closet, but with shelves of different kinds of guns and ammo stacked from top to bottom. Jemma had watched intently as Skye disabled the lockdown on the room, and then eyed the contents within.

"One of these days we'll have to have a little chat about just what kind of organization Shield really is," her tone was a mixture of impressed and comically suspicious.

"A really great one," Skye answered simply, grabbing a magazine belt under the pretense of "just in case". "If you ever want a change from the teacher's life you should think about joining."

"Oh no, not me," Jemma absentmindedly took the ammo clip Skye handed her, also under the pretense of "just in case". "I can't be a part of your bad girl shenanigans, I don't have the nerve for all this madcap adventure and gunslinging."

"I didn't used to, either," Skye kept up the conversation in an attempt to calm her still-rising tension. "I was a lot different before Shield."

Feeling sufficiently prepared, she closed up the weapons closet and fiddled with the keypad until both lights turned red again, then snapped the cover shut and hid the whole module in plain sight once more.

"Different? How so?" Jemma asked.

"May would've called it...softer. Not in a bad way, at least, I don't think. I liked to imagine I was cool at times, probably wasn't, though," Skye chuckled quietly to herself. "When bad situations popped up I panicked a lot more, cried a lot more. Cried a lot in general, actually. Out of happiness, sadness, relief, getting overwhelmed, it didn't matter. It just happened."

Jemma smiled.

"You're a being of emotion. That's wonderful," she said.

"I _was_ a being of emotion. Not so much now. If the old me poked her head into an air vent and came face to face with a mummy, there'd be a lot less wisecracking and a lot more...well, flailing."

"You, flailing?" the professor laughed, but the amusement faded slightly when she thought about the Skye she knew now. "Was it Shield that changed you?"

"No, I was changing before Shield. Dropping out of high school, being kicked out by yet _another_ set of fosters like a stray cat...really started to hit hard just how much I didn't belong anywhere. Made me go through a pretty bitter streak, to be honest."

The talk was calming her down, but the staying in one place wasn't. Skye began to trek the winding corridors of Shield again, and Jemma followed.

"I mean, yeah, you can't _not_ be toughened up in Shield, but...I just changed over time, I guess."

"Well, I think both Skyes are amazing. As is Daisy."

"...Oh god, you remembered that," Skye cringed and laughed.

"I told you I would."

Amidst the lull, a haunting sound like hundreds of whispered voices all speaking over and within one another crept into the hallway like a fog. A low, ghostly noise, it sent goosebumps racing along Skye and Jemma's skin.

_*"I know you are here, little ones."*_

"Little?!" Jemma said in indignation with an instant pout.

"What? What is he saying?" Skye questioned, not understanding the ancient Egyptian and pulling a 360 with her gun aimed.

"Well, he's being patronizing, but he knows we're here," Jemma timidly lifted her own gun and cautiously crept backwards down the hall.

"Of course he does," Skye grumbled.

Despite her efforts to be well-prepared for a firefight, Skye wasn't about to jump into a round or two with the mummy if she didn't need to, so she slowly maneuvered the halls with Jemma, trying to distance themselves from the Pharaoh before he rounded the corner out of nowhere like the nightmare monster he was.

"Jemma," she whispered. "We have to get out of here. We—"

"Gotcha, you son of a bitch!!"

The girls froze. Jemma turned her head to the Shield, eyebrows furrowed confusedly.

"Was that—?"

"Hartley," Skye finished her sentence.

She instantly ran forward in the direction of Hartley's voice but didn't even get a step or two in before the deafening rapid fire of bullets and the accompanying flashes of light lit up the intersection ahead of them.

"Hartley!!"

The pair turned the corner and skidded to a stop. They were standing almost Wild West showdown style, Hartley to the far end of the hallway and the mummy closer to Skye and Simmons. Djedefre merely stood and growled as bullets riddled his leathery body, but Hartley didn't let up. With an angry and determined scream the mummy exploded into his sandstorm form in the blink of an eye; Jemma and Skye leapt to safety back around the corner, diving to the floor and covering their faces against the grit.

Hartley's scream was next, a sound that started out normal before becoming more and more rough and raspy—a sound horrifically akin to something being sucked dry. Mystical winds blew the sandstorm down the hall and out of sight, and then something thudded flatly onto the floor. Silence after that.

"No..." Jemma lifted her head and scrambled to her feet. Skye was right behind her doing the same.

Jemma knew what she would see even before she saw it, but that didn't stop her from letting out a terrible gasp when Skye's flashlight lit up Hartley's shriveled, mummified body on the floor. It was the same thing she saw back in the hospital room, but something was different this time. Whether it was the darkness, the lateness of the hour, or the fact that they'd been standing right there unable to help, Hartley's dried up corpse scared Jemma. She turned around to hug Skye like she was a protective teddy bear, burying her face in her shoulder.

"I don't know how to stop this thing from getting to Trip," she said miserably. "Or any of us, for that matter."

Skye put an arm around Jemma, her eyes locked on Hartley.

"Neither do I," she admitted.

"Well you're not going to do it by just standing around here."

A startled Jemma leapt away from the Shield at the voice, but Skye knew better than to panic. She turned the last of her phone light in the right direction, and there was Melinda May standing before them.

"Now go get dressed," she ordered. "We have a base to defend."


	17. Lights Off, Fight's On

"Fitz, will you please wake up?? This is important!"

Fitz wobbled sleepily on his feet, his eyes stuck in a repeating pattern of lazily falling shut and then snapping back open.

"Look, when you drag me out of bed at four in the morning, I don't know what else you expect me to be," he came back with a glare.

"Shoulda left this one in bed, mates," Hunter agreed. "You'll wind up making mummy food outta him."

May was preoccupied. A tall section of wall in her office slid back to reveal a massive tangle of wires and colors, which she intensely fiddled with while the others stood gathered around her desk.

"How come you never told me your office had emergency backup power?" Skye questioned her director, crossing her arms.

"There was never an emergency."

With a loud click, the lights flickered back on, and the electronics in the office booted back up.

"Now we're in business," Skye said, cracking her knuckles and hurrying to the computer. "May I?"

The director nodded, Skye had a seat, and then she started typing and clicking away. Soon she brought up Shield's security cameras, cycling through each and every feed.

"The base is still dark, and night vision doesn't exactly make for easy viewing," she said, squinting at the fuzzy green and black. "I wouldn't call trying to track Djedefre's movements like this Plan A."

"I'm not so much concerned about where he is, just how we're going to get him out before..." Bobbi's gaze turned to Trip, who stood away from the others, absentmindedly watching them from the door.

When Bobbi's words fixated everyone else's eyes on Trip, he just shrugged, and laughed sadly.

"Go ahead, you can say it," he told them. "Hartley gone, Hand gone...I'm next. And without my team around to cover my back, maybe it doesn't really matter whether I go or whether I don't."

"It does so matter!" Jemma bristled defensively. "Would Hand and Hartley want you to just give up that easily?"

"Would they want you to roll over and let Djedefre consummate the curse to regain his full power?" Fitz asked.

"They're right," Skye looked up from the computer. "As bad as this guy is now, he's not even at a hundred percent. But if he ends up fully regenerated, our day goes from bad to worse. You're our last line of defense, Trip. And Fitz, Jemma, you're our brains. If anyone's going to figure out how to kick Creature Feature out of our house, it's you guys."

Fitzsimmons looked humbled, yet unsure.

"But it's not like this is a plain old mummy safe and sound inside a sarcophagus, this is something else entirely," Jemma said. "We're dealing with magic here, and I'm afraid the only way to fight it might be with magic of...our own..."

She trailed off, but Fitz saw exactly where she was going.

"The spellbook," he finished.

"The spellbook belongs to the mummy," Bobbi frowned. "What makes you think there's anything in it that can be used against him?"

"It's a start, and better than nothing," the professor explained.

"I'll get it," Skye stood up.

Jemma blinked dumbly at her.

"...Sorry, what?" she asked.

"I said I'll get the spellbook."

"I heard that part, what I also heard was the unspoken part about you going alone," the professor glowered.

"I know where we've hidden it, I can go, get it, and get back," Skye assured her.

"And what about when the mummy corners you, hm? When he's got you trapped and no one is there to distract him so you can make a getaway?"

"Jemma—"

"I'm going with you," Jemma cut her off.

"Me too," Fitz said.

Their expressions were set with determination and their wills were firm. Exasperated, Skye looked to the Shield director.

"May, tell them they're staying here while I bring back the spellbook, _alone_."

"Fitz and Simmons aren't a part of Shield. I can't tell them to do anything," May all but shrugged.

The two exchanged identical shit-eating grins with each other, the kind worn by little children whose mother just told the older sibling they had to take them out. Skye vehemently objected, but she couldn't argue with May, and just sighed heavily.

"Alright, Fitzsimmons and I will grab the spellbook. That's Step One. We'll bring it back here and figure out a Step Two. Let's move."

She took their weapons off of May's desk, handing a gun back to Jemma, now properly outfitted with an official holster of her own. Skye silently handed one of her second guns in offering to Fitz, who promptly shook his head, so Skye pocketed the extra for herself.

"They're civilians, Skye. Keep them safe," May said.

"Always will," the Shield opened the door, and she and Fitzsimmons disappeared into the hall.

Skye's phone had given out on her when May picked them up and rounded up everyone in her office, but the director helpfully provided a stash of flashlights, one of which Skye was shining around the hall, taking a precautionary look. All clear, she turned to the two behind her.

"Fitzsimmons, listen—"

"No, _you_ listen," Jemma stepped forward with a stern expression. "The mummy has already killed two people because they were alone and vulnerable. Hand was stuck in a hospital bed, Hartley tried to take him on by herself. None of us stand a chance against him on our own, the others tried that and got themselves mummified, and I'm not going to let that happen to you."

She wrapped her arms around Skye's waist, tilting her head just enough to look up at her eyes.

"Not you, Skye..."

Skye didn't know what to say.

"Ditto, but without the romantic undertones," Fitz told her.

Skye was suddenly very aware of just how easy it was for this little British Egyptology professor to melt away her rough and tough demeanor like it was nothing. She was suddenly very aware, and suddenly she didn't give a rat's ass about staying rough and tough just then. She leaned in and softly kissed the tip of Jemma's nose, making her giggle and smile.

"Right then, let's get a move on," Fitz ducked his head and swerved around them with a flashlight of his own.

Jemma and Skye laughed to themselves and separated, always amused by Fitz's mild disdain for PDA between the girl he once thought was a criminal and the girl who was essentially his sister.

"Alright, in case King Tut is listening in, I won't tell you guys where we hid the book," Skye took the lead. "Just follow me, stay quiet, and keep your ears and eyes open."

"Now, seeing as I've only glanced at its contents, I have to agree somewhat with Bobbi; we have no reason to believe that a spellbook belonging to Djedefre has anything that can _harm_ Djedefre."

Gun raised, Skye quickly rounded a corner and scouted the corridor. Nothing there, so she lowered her weapon and kept walking.

"Tell you what, even if the book isn't a bust, I think we all know exactly who we should be turning to," she said.

"...Professor Sarraf," Fitzsimmons spoke together.

"And all the Medjai," Skye went on. "Your boss may have questionable motives, but those guys have trained down the line for thousands of years, they're the very definition of 'know your enemy'. So maybe think about giving her a call when we get out of here."

"If we get out of here."

" _When_ we get out of here, Simmons. You have got to stop with the doom and gloom."

"A bit hard to do when the doom and gloom is killing left and right."

"We're safe when we're together, Jemma," Fitz said soothingly.

So together they moved through the base, every creak and every minuscule bump kicking their senses into high alert as the threat of running into the mummy grew bigger and bigger with each moment passed in safety.

Fitz began to recognize the particular section of base they were crossing just then.

"...You kept the spellbook in the—"

"Shh!" Skye interrupted. "Mummy ears all over the place, remember?"

Fitz looked away guiltily, and shut up then and there.

Skye slid open a huge set of double doors that marked the way into the artifacts wing, a section of the base that read more like a museum with Shield-rescued treasures and items in temporary holdings of cases, shelving, and cabinets.

"What's all this?" Jemma asked.

Fitz swung the beam of his flashlight around the room, and to both girls' surprise, it was him who answered the question.

"It's where Shield stores and catalogs its findings before they're turned over to the proper authorities."

Skye's surprise faded when she vaguely remembered how Fitz had wandered off at some point after first being brought to HQ, and somehow wrangled himself something akin to the grand tour.

"But all of that has to be done by Coulson and his people stateside, seeing as Shield isn't exactly top BFF of the Egyptian government," Skye went on.

"I think something should be done about that, the work Shield does is admirable," Jemma noted.

"Minus all the gunfire," the librarian absentmindedly mentioned, observing a broken set of canopic jars.

Skye puffed up like a rowdy cat.

"Hey, bad guys fire at us first, we fire back. It's as simple as that. And besides, I don't hear you complaining about gunfire when there's a mummy after your butt."

Jemma shook her head with a little half-smile, putting a hand on the Shield's arm.

"Now Skye, Fitz didn't mean anything by it."

"Don't worry about it Jemma, you know how Americans are with their tempers," Fitz said.

"And you know how Scottish people are with their...I don't know, highlands," Skye lamely retorted.

"Let's just get the spellbook," the professor suggested. "I'll feel a lot safer when we're back with the others."

"Ouch," Skye muttered.

"Well, I mean, _obviously_ I feel safe with you and Fitz, but when it's safety in numbers, the more numbers, the better. So, where's the spellbook?"

Skye handed her flashlight to Jemma, and then crossed the room. Fitzsimmons followed her to a tall glass case displaying a statuette of Thoth, god of wisdom. She braced her shoulders against it and then pushed the entire case aside, it slowly slid over to reveal a square hole cut deep into the floor—where the golden book rested comfortably and snugly.

"Brilliant," Fitz said in admiration.

"Let's grab it and get out of here," Skye was already kneeling down and reaching for the spellbook.

"...And think about what we'll do if it leads the mummy right to us?" Fitz quietly wondered.

Skye stood up with the book in the crook of her arm.

"Ixnay on the negative vibes, huh?" she suggested with a scowl.

Suddenly pale in the glow of the flashlight, the librarian slowly raised an arm and pointed.

Skye's face fell.

"...Jemma, tell me he's not—"

Jemma bravely turned around to face the entrance of the wing.

"...He is. And it's so much worse than you think."

In one smooth movement Skye drew and aimed her handgun while whirling around to join Fitzsimmons in turning towards the doors, and hell yes, it was so much worse than she thought.

The mummy, or more accurately, Pharaoh Djedefre. Freshly regenerated after killing Hartley, he was now more man than mummy. An imposing figure of muscle and dark brown skin, clad in his tattered robes. The only signs of the menace he truly was lay in the side of his face, and his ribcage. With Trip still free, and the curse still unfulfilled, the Pharaoh was close, but not yet fully regenerated. His cheek still carried the decayed and sinewy mummy flesh, his teeth poking through like that of a ghoul's, his ribs doing the same with every inhale and exhale that stirred his rotted chest.

"...Think shooting him works now?" Skye whispered.

_*"This world is not the same one I was so wrongfully taken from."*_

It was horrifying watching his twisted mouth speak.

_*"But it will be conquered soon enough."*_

He extended a hand.

_*"Your final warning. Give me the Book of Set now, and you will be the last ones to die."*_

Jemma rolled her eyes.

"Oh, well, in _that_ case," she sarcastically said, pleasantly surprised at her own wit in the shadow of the monster.

Skye tore her gaze away from the mummy and cast it on Jemma.

"Hey, attractive Google Translate, what's he saying?" she questioned.

"He's making an oh-so-very tempting offer to kill us last if we give him the book," the professor answered.

Djedefre chuckled darkly with his only half-human smile.

_*"Always the only one to understand my words. You are wise, little one."*_

"I am not _little_! I will have you know 5' 4" is a perfectly average height!" Jemma spitefully argued.

"I'm 5' 6"."

"Shut up, Skye."

"Doesn't anyone want to just shoot him??" Fitz suggested.

The Shield nodded once.

"Great idea."

Jemma joined in this time, pulling her gun from its holster and timidly firing off three shots of her own right alongside Skye. Fitz jumped back and covered his ears as Skye kept shooting long after Jemma had stopped, but all of it was still to no avail.

Djedefre may have looked more human now, but he was no such thing. He'd barely moved as his body was littered with bullets, and when the metaphorical and literal smoke cleared the trio was flashed with his menacing glower. Before their eyes, the bullet holes in the Pharaoh filled with sand and healed themselves, setting him good as new within seconds.

_*"...My turn."*_

The mummy opened his mouth wide, impossibly so, stretching like rubber, and a deafening buzz began to rise up and fill the room. Fitz shone the flashlight right on the creature and all around him, trying and failing to find the source of the sound in the dark.

"More insects??" a panicked Jemma guessed, backing up like distance would do any sort of good right now.

"'I send the swarm, I send the horde'," Skye quoted The Prince of Egypt, whose song lyrics had been admittedly stuck on and off in her head ever since the rain of fire.

The three of them huddled together, bracing themselves for whatever brand new horror was just about to strike them, but a pair of different sounds managed to break through the insectile din that was growing frighteningly louder.

Footsteps running along the floor. Then a battle cry-like "Hi-YA!"

They saw the Pharaoh drop from sight, falling from the radius of the flashlight's shine and onto the floor with a thud as his legs were swept out from under him. An angered roar from the monster and he sprang back to his feet, rearing back an arm and swinging at what appeared to be thin air. Only it was so much more than thin air.

May easily dodged his swing with a simple step backwards and then came at him again. When the mummy threw another punch she caught his arm and flipped him like a pancake, Fitzsimmons watched with eyes wide and jaws dropped. May jumped, kicked, flipped, and chopped her way through Djedefre, and the fight was only cut short when the Pharaoh whirled into a cloud of sand with a ferocious roar and whooshed right out of the artifacts room, tossing hair with the force of the storm winds.

"...You never told us May was a bloody ninja," Fitz squeaked.

"I thought it was implied," Skye brushed sand off herself and Jemma.

"But he's a supernatural monster!" Fitz argued, gesturing wildly. "He's got massive strength, magic, regeneration, how on earth did she just—??"

"One thing you learn about royals?" May interrupted. "They have bodyguards for a reason."

None of them dared to question why May's tone seemed to imply she'd dropped royalty before, and they were happy to let the subject segue completely.

"We have the book," Skye said, lifting the golden binding up for emphasis. "So let's get back to your office and see if there's a handy little exorcism spell to get this guy out of our base."

"That's our Step Two?" Fitz asked.

"Sure, let's go with that."

* * *

"You know, the pacing is tremendously unhelpful," Jemma muttered, side-eyeing Skye.

"My bad," the Shield stopped said pacing and went to stand by Bobbi.

Jemma sat at the desk and pored intently over every mark and hieroglyph inscribed on the golden pages.

"...I am not liking this," she muttered.

Fitz came up behind her and peered over her shoulder.

"Nothing?" he guessed.

"Nothing that's going to help us," Jemma turned to the second-to-last page. "These are all powerful spells and rituals meant to be wielded by an equally powerful sorcerer. It's completely to the mummy's benefit. Our best bet is to just keep this book from falling into his hands."

"Already done," May chimed in. "Coulson arrives in hours. We'll have him send the book to the Shield offices stateside."

"That just might work," Fitz mused. "Powers or no powers, I'd like to see that thing cross the Atlantic."

"And how do we deal with it until Coulson gets here? Mummy might still be in the base, or it might not. I don't want to sit here and twiddle my thumbs until we find out," Trip said.

"How about we just draw him out and run him off? All we need is the right bait," Hunter jokingly eyed Jemma.

"How about we don't?" Skye sternly said, noticing and not amused.

Hunter smirked.

"Just trying to get a good rise out of you, Skye. Breaking the tension."

Bobbi frowned at him.

"Look, getting the mummy out of HQ is only a temporary solution," Skye went on. "We need a permanent solution, and to get that, we need Fitzsimmons' old boss."

"The head of the Egyptology department," May said.

"Who just so happens to double as a member of an ancient society of warriors whose main purpose in life is to fight against the Pharaoh."

May nodded.

"We can handle defending the book here until it gets to Coulson. You and Fitzsimmons find the Egyptology professor," she ordered. "And Trip, you're going with them. This mummy wants you, and he wants the book; let's not make it easy for him to get both at the same time."

"Got it," Trip moved to go stand with Fitzsimmons and Skye.

"We'll hold down the fort," Bobbi grinned.

"Keep an eye out on the mean streets, yeah?" Hunter told them.

"Hopefully we'll come back with good news," Skye said in response.

Fitz ducked his gaze down towards the floor.

"Hopefully we'll come back in general," he muttered to himself.

Skye led the other three out of the office without any pomp or circumstance, and the group gathered together out in the dark hallway. Skye clicked her flashlight on just as the door to May's office closed shut and took with it the light from the director's backup power. Jemma glanced at everyone around her, and sighed.

"Listen, I'm fully aware that there's a looming apocalypse to avert and time is absolutely of the essence, but it's four in the morning," she said with a sad frown. "It's four in the morning, and I am not running on very much sleep."

Skye wasn't either, but with her mind and body in Action Mode, she was ready and willing to push through the sleepiness and keep going full-stop. However, she knew the others couldn't do the same, especially Jemma and Fitz, and no convincing was necessary to get her to concede.

"We'll stop at a hotel. Djedefre will have a harder time finding us there than he would at any of our apartments," she said. "We can catch a few hours of sleep and then head to the university to see where Professor Sarraf has scurried off to. Sound like a plan?"

Trip gave her a thumbs-up.

"That it does."


	18. Tag Teams

Three minutes to seven, that was when Jemma's eyes slowly fluttered open to blearily peek up at the ceiling above her. Just about three hours of sleep. She didn't feel like a zombie, but she didn't feel particularly well-rested either. The hotel room was still dark, dawn hadn't begun to break yet. Even with the fan spiraling overhead and the obnoxious, somewhat rattling drone of the air conditioning, she could hear Fitz's snoring on the other side of the door that adjoined their two rooms.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The bed was rather small, and she felt rather cramped. As tired as she was, she had fallen asleep easily enough, but now there was a repetitive and not-at-all subtle voice in the back of her head telling her she desperately wanted to get up and stretch her legs for a bit before going back to bed. So she tossed the covers aside, her feet found the floor, and a yawn found its way to her. She crossed the room carefully, trying not to bump ungracefully into any furniture and wake up Fitz. Outside, the hallway was lit only by dim, very dim light, and Jemma's fuzzy sleep vision was drawn right to the floor.

"Skye?" she murmured, rubbing her eyes again in case she was seeing things.

The Shield was indeed there, sitting on the floor with her knees drawn, resting back against the wall. She tilted her head up at the sound of the door opening and at the professor's voice.

"...Jemma. Hey."

"What are you doing out here?" Jemma wondered.

"Standing watch. Or, you know, sitting watch," Skye smiled.

"Haven't you slept at all??"

Skye just kept smiling, staring up at Jemma.

"I'm good, Simmons."

"No you're not," Jemma walked over and sat down next to Skye, leaning back against the tacky corridor wallpaper as well. "You need rest, or at the very least, some black coffee. And I haven't seen you getting either."

"Well, maybe when we have some non-apocalyptic downtime, you and I can have a second coffee date. Talk about all the movies She-Who-Lives-Under-A-Rock has yet to see."

Jemma let out a reminiscing sigh.

"I miss Waterstones. There aren't any here in Egypt. I always imagined it would make the perfect date spot," she said.

"What the hell is Waterstones?"

"A bookstore, silly. Oftentimes with a little coffee spot in the back. There's nothing like tea, some books, perhaps a rainy day, getting lost and staying lost among pages..."

"In America we call that Barnes and Noble."

"I'm positive it doesn't compare," Jemma said haughtily.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Skye adjusted herself a little bit, trying to get more comfortable.

"Skye, go to bed," Jemma urged her. "We don't even know if the Pharaoh will be able to find us here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to risk it. Especially with Trip here. This thing has found its way to us before. It's not so much 'if' as it is 'when'."

"So why is it you always falling on the role of protector?"

Skye shrugged.

"It's what I do," she said simply.

"It doesn't have to be. You're among friends, and family, and—"

"And more than friends?" Skye wore a mischievous smirk. "All the more reason."

"...I may be just a schoolteacher, but I'm not as frail as I seem. Maybe I can look after you for once."

Tiredly, Skye slouched down low against the wall so she could get at Jemma's shoulder, leaning over and laying her head there.

"I might like that," she murmured.

"And you could just close your eyes..."

"Nope. Evil mummy on the loose," Skye shook her head against Jemma's shoulder.

"I'm sitting right here. I'll be on guard duty."

"...I'm fine, Jemma. Really. I don't need the rest," the Shield insisted.

"Then I could just stay here and keep talking. You like my voice, remember? Have you asleep in no time," Jemma teased.

"Simmons, quit it. I'm not going to sleep," Skye's words implied that she was attempting to protest, but her eyes were drifting shut as she spoke. "...You're like,  _really_  comfortable..."

The professor smiled proudly.

"Go to sleep, Skye."

Finally, the Shield shut up, and went quiet. The minutes passed by silently, and Jemma was sure the girl had fallen asleep by then. But then Skye tilted her head up to kiss Jemma on the cheek, before turning her body to curl up more snugly against her. It made Jemma all warm and flushed, and for her own sake she just hoped Skye couldn't feel it.

Jemma tried to stay up, but she admittedly lightly dozed on again and off again in the hours that passed. Close to four hours later, both girls found themselves slowly being roused awake by a soft nudging against their feet. Jemma's eyes blinked open first, followed by those of Skye, who slowly sat up straight and stretched. Fitz stood above them, dressed in what he was wearing back at Shield HQ and holding a styrofoam cup in each hand.

"Morning. I brought tea. And coffee."

He crouched down to give the tea and coffee to Jemma and Skye, respectively. The professor yawned and let the warmth from the cup in her hands spread through the rest of her body.

"Thanks," Skye mumbled drowsily.

"Thank you, Fitz."

When Skye had just started to get her senses back, she was in all-business mode once more.

"Did you check on Trip?" she asked.

"First thing. He's fine," the librarian dutifully answered.

It was good, it meant no mummy had snuck past them at any point in the morning.

"I'm heading back down to the dining room," Fitz announced. "I told Trip to meet us there for breakfast before we go to the university."

"Mm, breakfast," his best friend happily sighed. "We'll see you down there."

Fitz nodded and turned to head back the way he came, leaving the two girls alone once more. Skye let her head fall back against the wall, turning to watch Jemma as she gratefully sipped her tea.

"I wouldn't mind this being our thing," the Shield said.

Jemma paused.

"What being our thing?" she wondered.

"Me working way too hard and you not standing for any of it," Skye smiled.

Jemma returned the smile, and then laughed a little to herself.

"I'm hardly the right person for it. I happen to be a workaholic myself, Fitz is the one who always has to snap me out of it," she explained. "But maybe that's why you and I seem to make a good team; we're good at taking care of everyone else but ourselves."

Skye lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers through Jemma's hair with the most intense look of concentration on her face, as if she had to make sure to do the gesture right, do it absolutely perfectly. Jemma all but purred.

"Sleep alright?" she asked.

Skye nodded.

"Good, I figured I'd repay the favor. You were my pillow on the trip to Djedefre's palace, it's only fair that I be yours at some point."

"Jemma?"

"Hm?"

"You're incredible."

* * *

"I don't know why we didn't think to come here sooner, there isn't anyone better to help us stop this Pharaoh."

Jemma strode confidently down the ever-familiar halls of the university on the way to Professor Sarraf's office, with the others close behind her.

"The fact that she and her sacred cult tried to kill us is probably a reason," Fitz mentioned.

They turned the corner and went straight into the department head's office without even knocking on the door, and there she was. Professor Sarraf stood behind her desk, out of her Medjai robes to reign in suspicion and strange looks as she went about the school day, and right beside her was Mack. The pair had been studying all manner of scrolls and books that had been laid out on the desk, but looked up sternly at the intrusion of the group.

"Professor Simmons. Now that your field expedition is over, do you not think it's time to get back to your teaching? I believe you have a class at noon," Professor Sarraf said, wearing a scowl.

"I can't very well teach if all my students are dead now, can I?" Jemma firmly retorted.

Trip and Skye simultaneously raised impressed eyebrows, unaware that Jemma kept this little sassy side hidden somewhere beneath the deceptively sweet exterior.

"Djedefre is our concern. Not yours," Mack grunted.

"Seeing as you couldn't even stop a bunch of civilians from accidentally awakening a cursed monster, maybe you aren't as good at your jobs as you think you are, and maybe you need our help just as much as we need yours," Jemma said again.

Skye was admittedly a little turned on.

Mack narrowed his eyes.

"...What do you know?" he asked.

"That he's closer than you think and regaining his power with a vengeance."

"Two of ours are already dead," Skye told them.

Trip stepped forward.

"And he's shooting for three," he said.

"...The regeneration," the Egyptologist whispered, looking to Mack. Mack nodded with a stony set to his face.

"Coming for everyone who was there when his sarcophagus was unearthed," he said a little to himself.

"Kinda makes me a walking target, doesn't it?" Trip pointed out. "And kinda makes me want to bring out my good shoes to kick his ass for taking out my team."

"So start talking," Skye demanded.

Professor Sarraf and the head of the Medjai exchanged a glance.

"...We're looking," Mack said.

There was a collective pause from the others, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and disbelief.

"...You don't  _know_  how to stop him?" Fitz spoke the unspoken sentiment hanging in the air.

The Egyptologist closed some of the books laying open before her, then slowly moved to sit down in her chair. Her eyes met with Jemma's first, then Fitz's. She barely even spared Trip and Skye a passing glance.

"Djedefre was far more than mere man even before his turn into the monster we're facing today," she began.

Skye actually knew this one.

"Because the Pharaohs were seen as gods in Ancient Egypt," she noted.

"A god in life and a demon in death. No mortal weapon can kill this creature."

"Well then we're just going to have to find some  _im_ mortal ones," Jemma stated.

"Like the spellbook he's trying to get his grubby hands on," the librarian suggested.

Slowly, Professor Sarraf rose from her seat again, carefully and gracefully.

"...What spellbook?" she asked.

Skye rolled her eyes.

"You guys really haven't done your homework, have you?" she chided. "The one that brought him back to life in the first place, the one he's searching for in addition to Trip so he can make with the black magic some more."

"Oh, what did he call it back at the base?" Jemma turned around to look to Skye, forgetting the words.

"Jemma, I'm not the one who speaks Egyptian, ancient or otherwise, remember?"

"...The Book of Set!" it clicked back into place in Jemma's mind.

"...Of course," Professor Sarraf breathed.

"Of course what?" Trip asked.

"Just as Djedefre turned to Set in his quest for power, Khufu's priests turned to Horus, Set's enemy, in their quest to destroy the Pharaoh."

"We kept coming across references to a Book of Horus," Mack explained, gesturing to the literature scattered across the desk. "But they were so obscure and out of context, we didn't figure it would be any help."

The same lightbulb flashed on above Fitzsimmons' heads.

"The story says that Set granted Djedefre the power he sought in reward for killing his brother. If that book was part of the reward, a gift from Set..." Fitz started.

"Then the other book was a gift from Horus to help the priests defeat Djedefre!" Jemma finished.

"That's it then, we need to get that book," the librarian told everyone.

Jemma met his eyes and frowned.

"But it can't really be as simple as all that, can it?" she wondered.

"Let's go out on a limb and say that it is," Skye said, eager to get going. "Even if it isn't, Fitz is right—we need to get that book."

Suddenly, as if something invisible, secret, was whispering to him, something drew Mack away from the others and made him go towards the office window, peering out into the city with a puzzled, searching frown.

"...We'll have to move fast," he said grimly. "We don't have much time left."

"The hell does that mean?" Trip questioned.

Mack didn't need to tell him, and no one else needed to ask, for the answer was apparent soon enough.

The office began to darken as the morning sunlight filtering through the window began to dwindle, as if a patch of clouds were crossing through the sky. But it was obvious that something was very, very wrong when it just got darker and darker, not seeming to stop. Professor Sarraf and the others clamored to the wide window as well, just in time to see the moon hauntingly gliding through the air at a terrifyingly fast pace. It felt unnatural, looked like a foreign object that shouldn't have been there, and it fixed itself firmly in front of the sun, a menacing orb of black nestled in a thin ring of white.

And Cairo went dark.

"Oh god..." Jemma's voice was small, frightened. She'd never seen a solar eclipse before, and some part of her had always longed to...but she never stopped to think about just how horrifyingly unsettling it was.

Skye whirled around and stood over the desk, flicking on a table lamp and checking over the papers there as if she knew what she was looking at.

"Where does it say to find this book?" she demanded.

"It doesn't," Mack said. "Not yet, at least. We've only found reference, not details."

"Then get them. We're sending the other spellbook overseas to keep it away from the mummy. When he finds out, he's gonna be pissed, and we're gonna need a backup plan. Call Simmons the minute you find something."

Ready for action, Skye made her way across the room and to the office door.

"Coulson should be in the city by now, guys. Let's go," she said to Trip and Fitzsimmons.

They joined her at the door, and just as suddenly as they arrived, they were heading back out. Jemma stopped at the last minute, backtracking and timidly poking her head into the room once more.

"...Please hurry, Professor Sarraf."

* * *

Chaos ensued in the wake of the eclipse; humanity's preternatural inclination to panic in the dark at its finest. Navigating the crowded and lawless streets in the Shield van was a nightmare, and all the wasted minutes stalling in the middle of the road did nothing for everyone's nerves, as any second stuck out in the open was a second the mummy could come swooping down in a cloud of evil. When they made it to HQ in one piece, Phil Coulson was right there, standing outside the hangar doors, staring unperturbed up at the eclipse.

Trip was out of the car first, greeting the man with a handshake.

"Coulson," he spoke the name with a relieved breath, like suddenly all their problems were solved.

Skye was out next, joining Trip at his side. Coulson looked at her with the idly bemused smile of his.

"Looks like our expedition was a rousing success, huh?" he joked.

Skye knew that May had already taken the liberty of filling him in on everything that had been going on, and was both astounded and impressed that he found the time to joke.

"Well, from an archaeological standpoint, we did hit a goldmine," Jemma appeared without anyone noticing, bounding into place beside Skye. "But from a try-not-to-unearth-ancient-unholy-evils standpoint..."

"We washed out," Skye finished. "Ready to take the spellbook and blow out of here? Think the States is far enough away to keep it away from dear old mummy?"

"There's a Shield facility in D.C., specially suited for these kinds of things."

Skye chuckled.

"'These kinds of things'?" she repeated. "What, like tales from the crypt magically arise and seek out their evil possessions on a regular basis?"

Coulson's smile didn't falter.

"That's classified."

Skye's face went blank. She didn't even have a chance to vehemently request an explanation, because May came striding out of the hangar just then, carrying a steel box and flanked by a Shield detail of Hunter, Bobbi, and Elena Rodriguez.

"So you're part of our little world-saving campaign now too, Yo-Yo?" Skye asked.

"You know I'm not one to turn down a good fight," Yo-Yo's lilting Colombian accent drifted past Fitzsimmons' ears for the first time.

In addition to the one they'd just pulled up in, Skye noticed two other Shield vans parked outside.

"We're playing a decoy game?" she wondered.

"Not quite," Coulson said. His eyes locked on Trip. "You're coming too."

Everyone on Skye's side was taken aback, and none more so than Trip himself.

"...Sir, I...I figured on sticking around and seeing this thing through to the end," he said.

"I understand. But this mummy only wants two things—you, and the spellbook. If he gets one, it's bad, if he gets two, it's worse. And I don't plan on letting the situation get bad  _or_  worse."

Fitz hung his head, realizing Coulson's point.

"It really is better if both you and the book get out of Egypt," he wasn't eager to see Trip go.

But Trip didn't listen to him, he stayed focused on Coulson.

"I wanted to get back at this thing, for Hartley and Hand."

"And there's no better way to honor their memory than by living your life," Coulson wisely said.

"Your things from the base are already packed and in the van," May cut in like a knife. "And unless we want the Pharaoh to hone right in on us hanging around here like sitting ducks, I suggest we move."

Trip clearly had more fight left in him, but he knew arguing with the higher ups would get him nowhere.

"Skye, Elena, you're with Coulson. Morse and Hunter, with Trip," May ordered.

It was clear that May wasn't going to allow the time for any long, sappy, goodbyes.

"...Let me know if the world doesn't end?" Trip asked Skye, wearing that big smile of his.

"You'll be the first to find out," the Shield assured him, shaking his hand.

"And Fitzsimmons, keep an eye on this firecracker," he jerked his head in Skye's direction.

"Of course," Jemma agreed right away.

Fitz shrugged.

"Easier said than done."

Skye punched him in the arm.

May handed the sturdy box with the spellbook off to Coulson, who started for one of the vans.

"So am I here in a chauffeur capacity or a bodyguard capacity?" Skye wondered.

"Let's just call you freelance," Coulson said.

Elena followed him, and the other three went for the second van.

"Get them to the airfield in one piece," May told her Shields.

"Right," Hunter agreed.

"Piece of cake," Bobbi saluted.

Before Skye loaded herself into the car, she lingered just a little bit longer at Jemma's side.

"You're not going to worry incessantly about me, are you?" she asked.

"I'm learning not to," the professor insisted.

"Good. No need to get your British knickers in a twist. We've got this."

"Just be careful," Jemma urged her.

"You can count on it."

The goodbyes to Trip and the Shield teams splitting up seemed to happen pretty fast, and Fitzsimmons stood together, watching the vans zoom off into darkness.

"...Right then. Let's go, Fitz," Jemma moved with purpose into the Shield hangar.

"...Sorry, where exactly are we going?"

"To research. We've got a Book of Horus to find."


	19. Going Places

"Ah, ah, here we go, here's something," Fitz eagerly turned the page of the text in front of him. "The Book of...the Dead. Nope, nevermind, just  _another_  bloody reference to the Book of the Dead."

His librarian blood kept him from shoving the textbook onto the floor in frustration like he was so desperately itching to do. Behind him, Jemma paced around the floor of Shield's archives—essentially a library—before sitting back down at the computer she'd just given up on and giving it another shot.

"It would figure," she muttered.

"That and the Book of Thoth," Fitz added. "Every book but the one we need."

May chose that moment to come striding into the archives room, drawing to a stop and looking at Fitz, then Jemma.

"Coulson and Trip are on their way back to the U.S. with the spellbook," she announced. "That should buy us some time. Find anything?"

"No," Fitzsimmons flatly answered, not looking up from their respective book and computer.

"Can't even find a mention of the damn Book of Horus, let alone where to locate it," Jemma elaborated.

"Did you try looking up the Book of Set and working backwards from—"

"Yes," Fitzsimmons once again flatly answered.

Now Jemma glanced up.

"But we'll keep looking. Ever vigilant, we are. The fate of the world lies with us, and rest assured, we won't stop until—" her cellphone rang. "—Oh, bloody hell."

Disgruntled that her empowering speech got cut short, she grumbled under her breath as she fished out her phone, so all over the place that she didn't even look to see who was calling, merely answering with a clipped "Hello?"

As May and Fitz watched, her eyes went wide, and without saying a word she had hung up just as quickly as she'd answered.

"It was Professor Sarraf," she said, standing up. "She said to meet her at the Museum of Cairo—I think she and Mack have found something."

Fitz was out of his seat in a second as well.

"Let's go," he said.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he and his best friend were already making to leave the room. May's voice was the only thing that briefly stopped them.

"Take a Shield car. Piper will show you the way to the garage. Coulson wanted me to entrust you with these, said they might come in handy," she tossed a set of car keys to Jemma. "Ask for Lola."

* * *

The solar eclipse glared down like a menacing eye as Skye navigated the van through the city. Hours later, it was still madness, everyone scrambling frantically in the wake of a sudden eclipse and all orderly control lost.

"Left," Elena pointed. "Here."

"No backseat driving, Yo-Yo," Skye kept her fingers tightly and tensely curled around the steering wheel.

"May said to join up with the others at the Museum of Cairo, no? The museum is this way," Yo-Yo pointed again as the intersection drew nearer.

"No, the museum is further along. You know what's that way? Egyptian Wal-Mart."

Yo-Yo rolled her eyes and muttered something to herself in Spanish.

"You're cranky when you're away from your girlfriend," she dryly said.

"She's not my girlfriend, and I'm not cranky," Skye denied.

"You are cranky."

"Elena, do not make me pull this van over."

"Go left."

Skye relented, turning the van onto the left side street and stifling a growl when she saw the museum was indeed off in the distance. It was a strange transition, pulling up to the building, for here there was no one in sight. Just down the road and around the corner a scared populace flooded the streets, but around the museum, a bubble of calm and quiet. The van drew to a stop beside a sleek red Corvette, and the two Shields piled out. For all intents and purposes the museum seemed closed and abandoned, with no one around and no movement from inside.

It was a short trip up the steps and through the door, and then the pair found Fitzsimmons, Mack, and Professor Sarraf waiting at the front of the museum's massive ground floor.

"Alright, what'd we find?" Skye asked, sauntering up to the others.

"The one piece of Djedefre's history our ancestors left untouched," Professor Sarraf said.

"This way," Mack locked the door behind them and led the way around the outer ring of the room, to a staircase going up to the second floor.

Fitzsimmons and the two Medjai moved easily, as if they knew exactly where they were going, which—most likely—was the case. Skye and Yo-Yo on the other hand, essentially wanted vigilantes, had never been inside the country's national museum before. In fact, the last time Skye had been in a museum was three years ago in the much smaller Egyptian town she lived in, where she'd met May and came to Cairo after being recruited into Shield. She let herself partake in a little subtle ogling at the artifacts and pieces of history on display all around her. Mack stopped in front of a tall black stele, a huge tablet of stone, carved top to bottom with hieroglyphs and pictures.

Even without being able to read Ancient Egyptian, Skye saw that the tablet told a story. She recognized depictions of Set, and Horus, as well as a carving of a figure donning the traditional double crown—a Pharaoh.

"When the ancient Medjai wiped out all record of Djedefre, they forgot this. Whether it was on accident, or whether they knew the future world would need help in case we failed in our mission and the Pharaoh rose again, we don't know," Mack explained.

"Lucky for us, either way," Elena peered closely at the stele. "These are definitely our boys."

"But how do we know this will contain something that will help us, and not just the retelling of the mummy's story?" Jemma questioned.

"We won't until you have a look at it, Simmons," Skye mentioned. "Go ahead, see what it says."

Jemma moved in front of the huge stone, lifting a hand like she wanted to trace the grooves and dips of the hieroglyphs, but stopped herself from touching such an ancient artifact.

"Alright, let's see what we have here..." she murmured to herself.

The others waited patiently behind her while she deciphered the hieroglyphs, listening to her mutter and mumble under her breath as she translated. The minutes passed by one after the other like that, until Skye curiously peaked over Simmons' shoulder.

"Anything, Jemma?"

"Naturally, it's all very cryptic," Jemma said dryly. "Of course  _no one_  in the ancient world could bloody well just say what they mean, it has to be all 'prose this' and 'flowery poetry that'. These hieroglyphs here, they reference a 'star of Set'."

"Djedefre," Fitz said right away. "That's what you read from the spellbook when Radcliffe had his gun on you. 'Cursed was his land, cursed the world shall be, when the eternal star of Set once again reigns free'. It was talking about the Pharaoh."

Professor Sarraf moved beside Jemma and gave the stele a hard look of her own. Before she could say anything, Jemma sighed heavily and defeatedly.

"I believe it just talks about the Pharaoh, it doesn't say anything about the books."

"No, right here," Sarraf interrupted and pointed. "These symbols. They read 'the gift of dark knowledge'."

"That has to mean the Book of Set," Mack said.

"You're a clever one," Elena teased him. He looked at her like she'd lost her mind, but his gaze lingered a bit longer than it should have.

"So then the Book of Horus would be something along the lines of 'the gift of light knowledge'," Jemma stepped back to scan the hieroglyphs top to bottom, looking for the phrase. "It's got to be here somewhere..."

"...What is that?" Fitz first tilted his head, listening, and then whirled around in the direction of one of the large upstairs windows.

"What is what?" Skye questioned.

He didn't answer, but crossed the width of the floor to go over to the window, peering out into the darkness.

"...Bloody hell."

Skye didn't like the sound of that, and hurried to the window as well with Elena and Mack trailing behind her.

Down below, illuminated by the glow of streetlights, Cairo marched en masse to the museum; the streets were overrun with the populace creeping closer and closer from all sides like a sinister Egyptian parade. Eyes glassy, faces blank, the only signs of consciousness from the citizens of the city were the massive collective thudding of their steps and their drawling, rhythmic chanting of a name. Djedefre's name.

The very one who was leading the way, piercing eyes set and locked on the museum.

"...No one told me mindless zombies were part of the deal," Skye bitterly grumbled.

"'He will return in the dark of day to rule the will of all'," Jemma read aloud from the stele.

"A little late for that, but thanks."

Mack drew the semi-automatic rifle that was strapped across his back, readying himself for a fight.

"No shooting," Yo-Yo put her hand on the gun. "They're not in control of their actions."

Skye broke away from the window and strode back to the two professors.

"Now would be a  _great_  time to find that book," she urged.

"Patience is a virtue," Jemma told her.

Deafening banging came from the entrance on the floor below them; the sounds of frantic bashing against the door.

"Not right now it isn't!"

Still watching at the window, Fitz raised his hand and waved wildly at the others.

"Hang on, hang on! They haven't reached us yet!"

Skye took out both of her handguns.

"Then who's playing knock-knock?" she asked.

They all heard the door bursting open then, being thrown wide and slamming against the wall. Skye bravely raced right towards the staircase, planning to meet their unwelcome intruder halfway.

"...Radcliffe??"

Radcliffe paused in the middle of the steps, breathing heavily.

"Go, run!" he panted. "Get out of here while you can!"

"...Yo-Yo, Fitz, back door. Start the car," Skye ordered, not taking her eyes off of Radcliffe.

The two scurried away and down a second staircase on the opposite end of the level, their footsteps echoing off the floor below.

"What are the rest of you doing buggering about?" Radcliffe demanded. "Get a move on!"

"Not until we find what we're looking for, and not until you give me a reason why I shouldn't shoot you in the face right here and now," Skye said.

"Right, well, probably can't give you one of those," Radcliffe willingly admitted. "Do good intentions count for anything?"

"Can I kill an immortal mummy with your good intentions?"

"Here," Professor Sarraf interrupted, guiding Jemma's attention lower down the stele. "Not the gift of light knowledge, but 'a gift from the sky'."

"Horus is the god of the sky!" Jemma said.

The banging from downstairs returned, twice as loud with twice as much force.

"They're here," Mack warned, peering out the window.

Djedefre stood aside and watched as his throngs of mindless servants attempted to virtually bust the door off its hinges.

"So do we need a card catalog or is anyone gonna tell us where to find the damn book?" Skye impatiently demanded.

"It doesn't tell us where," Sarraf answered just as tensely. "All it says is 'watching the tombs of the gods'."

Jemma froze, and stepped back from the stone tablet.

"Abu Rawash," she said, sounding a bit awestruck. "The Book of Horus is hidden within Abu Rawash."

"That doesn't make any sense," Mack disagreed, leaving his post by the window.

"It makes all the sense! Why would Abu Rawash be regarded as the resting place of the mummy when the reality is that he was buried miles and miles away at a secret complex lost in the desert? It's because for decades, we've gotten it wrong. It isn't the resting place of Djedefre, it's the resting place of something  _associated_  with Djedefre."

"That is merely speculation, Jemma," the Egyptologist shook her head.

"Abu Rawash lies on a plateau overlooking the Pyramids of Giza. It watches the tombs of the gods."

The terrible sound of wood exploding into several splintered chunks and the droning chanting of brainwashed masses filled the downstairs lobby.

"It's as good a lead as any," Skye said quickly. "Now scatter!"

The remainder of the group bolted to the staircase Fitz and Yo-Yo had whizzed down just moments earlier, none of them even noticing or caring to notice how Radcliffe stayed behind to keep up his act of Djedefre's right-hand man.

Outside, behind the museum, they burst into the back parking lot just in time to see the red convertible zooming onto the scene and screeching to a halt. Jemma piled into the backseat with the two Medjai and Skye squished herself up front with Fitz and her fellow Shield.

"Where do we go now??" Fitz questioned from behind the wheel.

"Anywhere but here!" Skye's voice rose with slight panic as she heard part of the zombie sea trundling its way around the building and straight for them.

Fitz hit the gas and they took off, barreling around the museum and daring to race past the front just long enough to get onto the road. They didn't see the mummy as they flashed by, but knew that he had seen them the instant his infuriated, screeching roar shook the darkness as they made their escape. They were too vulnerable on the main road, going in a straight line; Fitz knew that. So the moment he got his chance he turned and sped the car into an alleyway, trying to make for the city's back roads.

It didn't work as well as he had hoped.

The way was barricaded by another sea of braindead slaves, all gazing complacently at the car without a single spark of light in their eyes. Hitting the real world version of the undo button wasn't about to work either, as another crowd shuffled in and sealed off the way behind them.

"...This is not going to be pretty," Yo-Yo wisely noted.

"Skye, what do we do?" the librarian asked.

Skye didn't want to say it, but it was the only choice they had.

"...We go bowling."

Fitz stepped on the gas and squealing tires launched them forward. Apparently mind wiped of any sense of self-preservation, the crowd finally put a bit of skip in their step and traded their slow lurching for a full-out run, intending to meet the car head on.

The team was bracing for impact when Fitz drove over a dip in the road that jolted the car, tossing an unbuckled Skye. Her feet flew up and kicked the dashboard, accidentally hitting and lighting up a button.

And then they were rising off the ground.

"What the hell??" Fitz leaned over the side of the car and saw the tires folding up and under the bottom of the Corvette, no longer needed, as they lifted into the air.

"Each day just keeps getting weirder and weirder," Skye just sighed and sat back, crossing her arms and decidedly nonplussed and unfazed after everything she had seen over the last three weeks.

Although extremely weirded out, Fitz kept his head and waited until they cleared the height of the crowd in front of them and then stepped on the gas pedal again. The car flew down the length of the alleyway and right over the heads of the people blocking their path, leaving them perplexed for a minute and blankly following the car with their eyes.

It was clear in an instant that driving a flying car was  _not_  the same as driving a normal car, and the Corvette veered and tilted wildly in the air; Fitz struggled to keep it from rolling over entirely and dumping Skye out into the street below.

"Left, Fitz! Turn it left!" Jemma yelled, watching them fly straight for a downtown building.

Easier said than done, and the back end of the car clipped the edge of the building as they passed, knocking out their hover capabilities and sending them on a short downward plummet to right smack dab in the middle of a market square. Thankfully, anyone who might have been in that square had either fled from the eclipse hours ago or gotten mind controlled, and the team crashed right into a cluster of empty tent stalls.

Groans were heard all around, but everyone came out intact.

"Memo to us—never do that again," Skye rubbed her head.

They opened the doors and more or less fell out of the car, stumbling woozily before they regained their balance.

"Why can't you Americans keep your feet on the ground?" Professor Sarraf chided.

"Hey lady, I didn't know hover cars came with Shield territory," Skye said in her defense.

They didn't have time to gather their wits, for they flew only a short distance from the alleyway and were cornered again by Djedefre's minions in no time at all. Still chanting his name, they closed in around the team on all sides, trapping them within the marketplace with nowhere to run. Not heeding Yo-Yo's earlier warning, Mack readied his rifle once more, and Sarraf did the same with her own hidden firearm.

"I'll be the first to say I don't like the odds on this one," Yo-Yo told them.

The section of crowd directly in front of them slowly parted to make way for the menacing and still partly-decayed Pharaoh, accompanied by a nervous and feeble looking Radcliffe. They drew to a stop just a handful of feet in front of Skye and the others, and the mummy watched them in intense silence. Without tearing his gaze away he grabbed the back of Radcliffe's shirt and roughly shoved him forward.

_*"Speak for me."*_

Radcliffe glanced back at him for a brief second, nervously straightening out his shirt and clearing his throat.

"He, uh, he knows you've lost him the book and the 'final vessel' of the curse," he jerked his head in Djedefre's direction. "His words, not mine."

"Yeah, and his regeneration will never be complete without Trip, so you can tell him to stick it in his eye," Fitz glared at the two of them.

"Well, you see...not quite," Radcliffe's eyes seemed to dart everywhere, like he'd rather have his attention anywhere else. "If he can't get his strength and powers back the way he intended to, then he's going to go straight to the source."

"Meaning?" Mack snapped.

"...Meaning a ritual sacrifice to Set. The same way he got his powers in the first place when he still ruled over Egypt."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Skye scoffed at the notion. "I'd like to know who the hell he thinks he's going to sacrifice around here."

Djedefre stepped forward and pushed Radcliffe aside, striding regally, and hauntingly enough, somewhat gracefully. He wore the wickedest, most twisted smile as he stopped and held a hand out, beckoning.

_*"Jemma."*_

That word needed no translating.

"I don't  _fucking_  think so!!" the two clicks sounded with lightning speed as Skye pointed her guns at Djedefre.

"You've both lost your bloody minds!" Fitz yelled.

Jemma herself exhibited little emotion, just going a bit pale with her jaw dropping slightly in the smallest of gasps.

"He will sacrifice no one, and he will gain nothing," Sarraf's eyes were cold and steely; she showed absolutely no fear in the face of the monster.

_*"Then first, I shall kill you, and then, the rest will follow,"*_  the mummy gestured to the immense gathering of hapless citizens around them.

"He...he says if Jemma doesn't go with him, his lackeys will kill you, and then he'll kill the lackeys," Radcliffe explained.

"...I'll go," Jemma quietly said, so quietly it took a second for everyone to process her words.

"No you won't!" Fitz and Skye said together.

"If it's either me or hundreds of innocent lives,  _your_  lives, then yes, I'm going," Jemma firmly stood her ground and slowly walked forward.

Djedefre didn't even wait, he reached out to snatch her by the arm and drag her into place beside him. Her best friend and her not-girlfriend launched themselves forward, full of fire, but Mack and Sarraf had to grab them, holding them back.

"Get off!!" Fitz yelled at Sarraf, struggling to get out of her remarkably strong grasp.

"Jemma!" Skye did the same under Mack's unbreakable hold. "Jemma, don't do this!"

Jemma brought an easy smile to her face, even though her eyes were flickering with little sparks of fear.

"Out in the desert, I told you that if I ever needed rescuing again, I wanted it to be done by you two. You'll find a way to get me out of this."

"The guy is a lunatic! We might not have time to find a way!" the Shield argued.

"Jemma, come on, think about this," Fitz implored.

Skye stopped fighting against Mack, her fire seeming to extinguish completely.

"...Simmons, please. We can't lose you."

Radcliffe managed the slightest of movements to catch his former partner's eye. Reflexively, her gaze flicked to him, and in the brief second he had her attention he silently mouthed something— _"I'll keep her safe."_

Despite the evidence, despite every single molecule of common sense in her head and in the breadth of the entire world telling her she had absolutely,  _absolutely_  no reason to, Skye believed him. Trusted that the man who practically got them all into this mess in the first place with his wily ways would use those same wily ways to play for time and stall until they had Jemma back.

"...This isn't over," she said to the Pharaoh, a horrifyingly dangerous edge to her features.

The mummy's nasty smile didn't falter, and pulling Jemma along he turned around to disappear back into the crowd.

_*"Destroy them."*_

Jemma gasped.

"No!! You said you wouldn't!" now it was her turn to try and fight free.

Again, it was something the others didn't need translated, as they got the hint when the minions resumed their chanting and started to swarm in even closer. Radcliffe was swallowed up in the wave of bodies and disappeared along with Jemma and the Pharaoh. Skye, for all her trained Shield prowess, took a moment to get back to reality as Simmons got lost in the chaos.

"There!" Yo-Yo's voice snapped her out of it.

Elena was pointing down at the ground, and following with her eyes, Skye spotted a manhole cover fixed into the cobblestone. Already free from Mack, the action training kicked back in, and even though she got the cover off quickly it still wasn't quick enough with the way the mind controlled goons squeezed them in.

"Everybody down here!" she yelled over the chanting.

Professor Sarraf yanked a long, metal tent pole free from one of the market stands and circled the perimeter, beating back the onslaught to bide mere seconds of time.

Yo-Yo went first, dropping down the manhole and into the underground below. Fitz scurried over and desperately grabbed Skye by the shoulders.

"But what about Jemma? She—!"

"We're gonna get her back," Skye said firmly, leading Fitz over and helping him down below.

The circle of masses were right upon them, suffocating them. That many people with that little brain power could rip them all limb from limb if Djedefre wanted them to, and just the team's luck, he wanted them to.

"Amina!" Mack called out.

"Professor Sarraf, let's go!" Skye said.

"Just get out of here!" the Egyptologist insisted, continuing to beat down the onslaught where she could.

"You're coming with us!" the Shield rose her voice.

They were all but completely closed in. Hands started reaching out for them.

"Forget about me! Rescue Simmons, destroy the creature! Do it!"

Although visibly reluctant, there must have been some sort of Medjai code of honor at play here, for Mack bowed his head at his second-in-command and threw himself into the manhole as well. Skye hesitated, lingering just a second or two longer, and then she too dropped underground; falling, hitting concrete flooring, and then running until the ominous chants of the monster's name got far, far away.

* * *

"He took Simmons, and he's going to sacrifice her to fully regain his power," May simplified and repeated the story Skye had just told her, partly for clarification, partly to process what even her razor sharp mind was having a hard time believing.

In the director's office, Skye was standing, Fitz was sitting, anxiously bouncing his leg and unknowingly biting his thumbnail.

"We'll find her, Skye," May promised, picking up her tablet off of her desk. "Let's assume he'll go back to the ruins of his palace for this ritual and focus a main detail there."

With just a handful of taps she pulled up a roster of Shields, already putting together alpha teams and beta teams.

"A main detail at the ruins, and a side one doing a full sweep of—"

"No," Skye interrupted, her voice flat.

May looked up at her. Her typical non-expression was now quizzical, not even irked and appalled that she'd been cut off.

"This is Jemma we're talking about. Aside from the fact that I'll shoot a corpse in the face for trying to kill her, she's one of the few people who can figure out how to put this thing back in the ground for good," Skye explained. "We need the big guns for this. All of them, if we're going to bring her back unharmed. I don't want you here at your desk running the behind the scenes, May...we need you to drive The Bus."


	20. Anyway, Moving On

True to its biblical counterpart, the eclipse over Cairo lasted for three days and three nights, with the city essentially at a standstill for the duration of the supernatural blackout. Only when the moon finally began to inch its way out from in front of the sun at the very beginning of the fourth morning did Cairo slowly, ever so slowly start to crawl back into resuming day to day functions.

It had meant three days and three nights of just sitting around Shield HQ, absolutely unable to do anything.

Skye was accustomed to it. With Shield's reputation sending the organization on the fast track to becoming an enemy of the state, most of their movements were carried out with the utmost care and the softest treading of footsteps. When Shield activities ran them right past government notice, the days and weeks of faking aliases, faking clearance, and cutting through red tape meant Skye and the other Shields tended to spend more time twiddling their thumbs than actually running missions. She was accustomed to waiting.

Just not this time.

The second daylight broke was the second she dragged Fitz with her straight to May's office, asking her to go ahead and put in the call to get them access to the site of Abu Rawash, as had been the gameplan for the past three days. As usual, May had already been ahead of her, but Abu Rawash was nestled within a high-security Egyptian military zone. Just their luck. May informed them that it wasn't impossible, but getting archaeological clearance to investigate the ruins was going to take longer than they thought. Which equaled more waiting, more twiddling of thumbs, while Jemma was god-knows-where at the mercy of a psychotic and power mad fiend.

"...You know, Abu Rawash was only discovered just over a decade ago," Fitz kept his mind distracted by focusing on archaeology and his body distracted by pacing lazy lines around his bunk at HQ. "And very few people have been allowed into the site ever since. Getting a chance to explore there would've been a dream of ours back in the day."

He clearly meant himself and Simmons.

Skye sat against the door, with one knee drawn up and her head turned slightly so she could hear movement out in the hallway, so she could hear the moment shoes came stepping up the corridor to finally deliver some shred of positive news.

"Lots of statues and carvings of Djedefre were found there right off the bat. Destroyed, too," Fitz went on.

At this point, he wasn't so much speaking as he was nervously babbling.

"Naturally, Egyptologists figured it was just the work of time, but now it's obvious that the images of the Pharaoh must have been purposely desecrated. Back at the museum, that bit about 'watching the tombs of the gods'? Abu Rawash sits on a hilltop high above the Giza plateau, the speculation is that the ruins are the remains of a fourth Pyramid of Giza, Djedefre's commissioned pyramid, and that he chose that land so his monument would stand higher and grander than those of his family's. With the ruins being so newly discovered, Egyptologists don't know if they're looking at the remains of a mere temple, a pyramid that was never finished, or a pyramid that  _was_  finished and then later torn down all the way to the base."

Skye wasn't tuning him out, she was actually listening. Just not responding much.

"I say that if there was a pyramid, there's every possibility that Djedefre was killed before it was completed and all work on the structure stopped with the tyrant dead, and also every possibility that he lived to see a completed tomb that the people of Egypt promptly destroyed after his death. Either way, the history behind it is still fascinating, and we could find anything inside of those ruins."

"Including the Book of Horus," the Shield finally spoke up. "I hate to burst your bubble Fitz, but even if this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to enter the ruins, we're only there to get in, get the book, and get out. No time to stop and smell the dusty roses."

The librarian stopped his pacing.

"I know that," he said firmly. "Jemma is practically my sister. Now she's gone, and a lifetime of work and study has led us to nothing but a cursed mummy intent on sucking out the world's brain through the nose."

"Okay, one—I know that's a mummification reference, but still, gross. And two—it hasn't led you guys to nothing. You're brilliant Egyptologists, perfect in your field. And sure, all we have right now is a cursed mummy, but what do you have when he's done for and out of the way? The find of the century, that's what. The complete rewriting of the royal family's history. And you know what name is gonna be on that rewriting? Fitzsimmons."

Fitz couldn't hold back the small smile beginning to creep across his face.

"Fitzsimmons and Skye Johnson," he corrected.

"...I was just the babysitter, remember?" Skye chuckled.

"And without your babysitting we would've been drowned, or shot, or eaten alive by locusts, or torched by blazing fireballs."

The Shield couldn't say anything more, for she heard the shoes coming up the hall, someone with the long-awaited positive news. She'd been toying with her trusty explorer's hat, twirling it around her fingers, but promptly stopped to jump to her feet and slide open the door. May was right there in the hall, not even fazed by Skye's urgent reaction.

"Well??" Skye said.

"It turns out Professor Sarraf wasn't the only Medjai to keep busy outside of following a sacred calling. One of them sits on the Ministry of Antiquities, and helpfully sped our paperwork along."

Skye sighed in relief.

"So, we're in?" she asked.

May nodded.

"But there's a catch," the director went on. "It's only you two allowed into the ruins. And without a larger team, you won't cover much ground very fast."

"Doesn't matter, we'll take it," Fitz started to hustle around the bunk, gathering up a jacket and shoes. "Abu Rawash is just five miles from the city, we can be there in ten minutes."

"Then gear up and get moving," May said. "You don't have any time to lose."

* * *

The return of the sun was a welcome gift until it started cruelly blazing down on the sands.

The desert was a far less beautiful sight this time around, what with Jemma held hostage and stuck on a camel while the cursed Pharaoh rode ahead a few feet in front of her.

"Of course the creature who can magically poof himself from place to place in a cloud of sand decides to take the long route in leading me to my death," the professor grumbled.

"The lad's old fashioned. Go figure," Radcliffe rode beside her, casting a bit of a glare onto Djedefre while he wasn't looking.

For three days and three nights the caravan had ridden together on their slow journey to the palace ruins, and Jemma's attempts to avoid any and all conversation with the ex-Shield were now being marred by just how extremely bored out of her mind she was.

"All this turning around to switch sides must be rather dizzying," she snidely remarked.

"It does, actually," Radcliffe freely admitted. "I never wanted to be seen as a bad guy, Simmons. A little misguided, maybe, but certainly nothing like Wrinkly Jim over there. I was only helping him because I thought it would get the others out of his grasp...but I expect they're all dead by now, anyway. This clearly isn't a man who keeps his word."

Jemma scowled viciously at the Pharaoh.

"It's not a man at all," she harshly corrected. "...And maybe we were all a little misguided. Maybe if I hadn't been so blindly driven to uncover the secrets of that key, none of this would've happened in the first place."

Radcliffe frowned.

"...Hey, that's no way to think. Chin up, it'll all turn out alright. You'll get rescued, you'll save the world, statues will be built in your honor. Just take your mind off all of it. There's plenty to do to pass the time. We could play 20 Questions, or a horrendously short game of 'I Spy'," Radcliffe tried to lighten the somewhat dire mood.

"...Tell me about Skye," Jemma requested quietly.

"Skye? Brilliant girl, came to us all wide-eyed and eager. Spent a good deal of her first week making X-Files references for some godforsaken reason."

Jemma giggled.

"But she took us seriously soon enough. Realized we were working towards something good and desperately wanted to be a part of it. Desperately wanted to be a part of *something*. You know she's an orphan? Bounced around foster care all her life?"

"Yes," the professor nodded.

"Then you can imagine she's spent a fairly harmful amount of time feeling like she doesn't belong anywhere. So when she finds where she thinks she finally  _can_  belong—like with Shield...or with you...best believe she's going to fight for it. She and Fitz will find you, Simmons. With Skye in the mix she'll rally all of Shield if she has to. All you have to do is wait."

Jemma mulled that over for a moment or two.

"...Strange to think how much you can come to mean to some people in so short a time," she mused.

"Not particularly. Sometimes there are simply just connections. No one looks for them, and no one expects them, but they're there."

Jemma raised an eyebrow.

"You speak from experience?" she wondered.

"...I do. She's...she...she doesn't have a lot of time left," Radcliffe's gaze unfocused and went somewhere far away. "Shield is certainly no slouch on the payroll, but...I thought nicking a few little artifacts here and there would help cover a proper funeral."

"...Oh, Radcliffe..."

He shook his head.

"I've already accepted that I'll one day say goodbye, but Skye won't do any such thing, and I figure Fitz won't either. Believe me, with people like that looking for you, you're as good as safe. There may be an evil mummy terrorizing all of creation, but trust me, Skye hasn't stopped thinking about you."

* * *

"This would be so much easier if Jemma was here," Skye muttered under her breath.

Her flashlight beam bounced off stone walls identical to every other stone wall she and Fitz had passed for the last twenty minutes.

Ahead of her, the librarian flashed his own light on the walls, leading the way through the catacombs that wound deeper and deeper under the sands.

"Yeah, well, she's not," he huffed, rather sternly.

"...Fitz."

"She's not," Fitz repeated, looking over his shoulder at Skye.

Around a stone corner they went, around to yet another identical tunnel.

"...Fitz, I'm sorry I couldn't stop her from being taken. We were outnumbered, and outgunned, and—"

"I'm not blaming you," Fitz immediately said. "The only one to blame for all of this is the mummy."

"...Alright, well, we need a plan. We so do not have time to just search these ruins head to toe for the book. Which is why I said it would be easier if Jemma were here, she'd have some fancy analytical process to track the second spellbook down. We need to think like Jemma."

Fitz chuckled dryly.

"Easier said than done. I'm not even sure if Jemma knows how to think like Jemma. It mostly just comes naturally to her."

"Come on, you know your Egyptology too. If you were an ancient bodyguard in a tomb, where would you hide the Pharaoh-killing spellbook?"

Fitz had to think, drawing to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

"...Most likely it would be in the King's Chamber, which would be further underground. We'd need to find a descending passage that would take us even deeper below," he said. "But the history books and my own two eyes tell me that these pyramid catacombs were built differently than any other pyramid catacombs modern archaeologists are familiar with. I have no idea how to get to the King's Chamber."

"So we go this way," Skye pushed past Fitz and let her flashlight lead the way through a tunnel ahead and to the right.

Fitz struggled to keep up with her, his feet working double time on the uneven stone floor to avoid getting left behind.

"What? What are you talking about? You can't possibly know which way to go."

"Call it a hunch," Skye strode onward, every step confident and purposeful like she really did know exactly where she was going.

The heat within the tight, confined and unbreathable space of the tunnels had been verging on unbearable, but it slowly began to cool off as they traversed deeper beneath the sands.

"Weren't you the one who said we didn't have time to wander? Jemma is out there in danger of becoming a ritual sacrifice and you want to trudge around endless passageways without a...a plan..."

Fitz's words slowed and trailed off when he saw it, a gaping maw of a black abyss cut into the wall before them. Together, he and Skye shined their lights into it, and the darkness fell away to reveal a narrow tunnel dropping a sharp forty-five degree descent into the earth.

"...That's it," the librarian breathed. "That's the passageway to the chamber...but how on earth did you—?"

Skye didn't even have an answer herself. Now that her little march of purpose was over, she too stood there in awe over having honed right in on the exact direction they needed to go in the untold measure of sprawling networks of tunnels.

"...No clue," she told Fitz.

She didn't let either of them have time to revel for long, there was still a spellbook to find.

The descending passage was not only narrow, but squat. The pair had to uncomfortably crouch to fit within and strain an arm to brace themselves against the smooth stone wall and keep them from slip-sliding down the entire steep angle of the tunnel. It was cramped, and with the threat of one single misstep sending them tumbling painfully into the dark, nothing short of nerve-wracking. But Fitz wouldn't relinquish the chance for a history lesson, explaining how ancient high priests would have to traverse such perilous descents all while carrying the sacred and enormous sarcophagus of the deceased Pharaoh who decided to make a pyramid his eternal home.

It felt like forever, but eventually the passage straightened out into a much less stressful horizontal fashion, yet remained cramped. Skye and Fitz still had to squat down just to shuffle through it. Their flashlights continued to light up the space in front of them, and after what seemed like an endless walk, they were finally able to stand back up when their trip led them into a tiny stone antechamber.

"Oh no..." Skye groaned.

A familiar sight. An arched door of stone, tattooed from top to bottom with unreadable hieroglyphs.

Sealed with a familiar lock. An eight-sided star.

"Not to worry," Fitz said calmly, slinging the backpack he carried off of his shoulder.

"...You didn't."

"I'm a librarian, and I've come to check out a book. Of course I brought my library card."

He pulled out the ancient key that started it all with a triumphant flourish, and Skye could've hugged the little devil.

One step closer to Jemma.

Fitz popped the key open and fitted it into the lock, twisting and turning until he heard a heavy click and the grinding of stone. Grating against the floor of the antechamber, the door opened inward, revealing the King's Chamber to them.

Another familiar sight, almost an exact one. Flashlights were no longer needed when wall-mounted torches magically flared to life the second Skye set foot in the room. All four walls were decorated with murals and hieroglyphs of bright, vivid, perfectly untouched paint, and at all four corners stood golden statues of Horus, with the body of a man and the head of a falcon. It was a shrine, just like the Shrine of Set at Djedefre's palace. And just like at Djedefre's palace, a stone pedestal stood squarely in the center of the shrine, only this one didn't stand empty.

"...There it is," Skye stated the obvious.

A black book sat neatly on the pedestal, looking pristine and untouched by time, not a speck of dust or grit on its bindings.

"The Book of Horus..." Fitz was torn between standing and reveling in this massive archaeological find and just grabbing the book to go save Jemma. It was indeed a conflict, but in the end his devotion to his best friend won out. He stepped forward towards the pedestal, making to reach for the book.

"Let me do it," Skye said, albeit distractedly. She'd been glancing off to the side and only saw Fitz reaching out from the corner of her eye.

Fitz stopped, and stepped back.

"Alright..." he conceded.

Skye took his place, going forward and standing right before the pedestal. The book was nearly identical to Djedefre's, but all black where the Book of Set was all gold. Black binding, black pages, and the hieroglyphs inked in various, vivid paints.

It wasn't in gold sheets like the other spellbook, and Skye lifted it with ease. Given all the magic and mysticism surrounding her life lately, she was expecting some sort of holy hallelujah to sound or a parade of otherworldly lights the moment she picked up the book, but no such thing happened. It was completely unceremonious, and she exchanged a brief look with Fitz.

"...Okay, back up top," she said.

Climbing back up the steep passageway was even less fun than climbing down, reminding Skye of days on elementary school playgrounds where teachers would tell her walking up the slides wasn't allowed, which of course led to her doing it anyway and becoming acutely familiar with the unique feel of ascending something that was only meant to be descended.

Flashlights back on, she and Fitz both had the same drive to get back aboveground to rescue Jemma, and they made short work of retracing their steps and finding their way back through the maze of underground ruins. Especially so after a three day eclipse, breaking the surface and being greeted with sunlight was a great relief, but they had little time to bask. All alone in the desolate and rocky outcropping of Abu Rawash, Fitz wasn't keen on the idea of having to sit there and wait, helplessly twiddling those thumbs of his while they waited to be picked back up by Shield. Time was too precious.

Nestling the black book in the crook of her arm, Skye had her cell out with her free hand, putting the call she made on speakerphone, letting the dialtone echo jarringly out of place in the dry desert air. She didn't need to hear a single word to know that May had picked up, and without waiting for the director to venture a greeting, she went ahead and spoke herself.

"May, we found the book," she said, unable to hold off a relieved smile. "This can help us stop the mummy once and for all and get Jemma back. We need you to get to Abu Rawash with The Bus as soon as you can."

"Already ahead of you," came May's voice through the phone.

Then, a sudden and thunderous roar that sent Fitz tumbling backwards fearfully into the sand but barely even fazed Skye—the unique and powerful growl of a jet engine coming from seemingly out of nowhere. The very air rattled, the sands shook, and Fitz sat there wide-eyed and open-mouthed while the deafening whine of a turbine grew as said turbine powered up. Scarcely unable to blink, unable to look away, Fitz watched an enormous Boeing shimmer into existence like a desert mirage, appearing from thin air to reveal itself parked firmly on the ground just a short distance away from them. If he hadn't been so close to Skye he never would've heard, but May's voice still came in loud and clear over the Shield's phone.

"Wheels up in five."

* * *

It was horrible, utterly and completely.

Jemma could feel each individual grain of sand like a miniature bullet as her body was scraped and scuffed by the cyclone of it around her. She'd complained earlier in the day about the tiresome tedium of journeying to her doom by camel, but now she was sorely missing it.

In the day and age she lived in, it was strange to imagine the sound of a plane flying overhead being something foreign and startling, but there it was. It took her a minute to recognize the droning in the sky above her, but recognize it she did, and she was tilting her head up the second she realized what she was hearing. She spotted the jet fixed against the cloudless blue sky in an instant, flying unusually low for a plane of its caliber. Radcliffe's gaze had followed next, and then Djedefre's, all three of them watching the streak of gray traversing the sky.

A beaming smile had taken her over; she knew exactly who was inside that plane. But then it all happened so fast. She didn't even have a chance to breathe out her friends' names in a sigh of relief before the still-monstrous scream of the Pharaoh drowned out the sound of the plane's engines. That was what  _really_  startled Jemma, and in a reflex she dropped the reins of her camel to cover her ears against the shriek. It was then that the cloud of sand erupted around her, and she felt herself slowly lifting from the saddle of the camel.

The whirlwind carried her into the air, where she clawed and grasped frantically at nothing in a desperate attempt to get her bearings. She knew the same was happening to Radcliffe, as she heard his shouts and cries briefly over the roaring of wind in her ears. It was nothing but a blinding abyss of sand, and lost among the vortex, she had no idea and no concept of just how fast they were traveling. But she knew Skye and Fitz would keep up.

She had to believe that.

Up in The Bus, the Shield and the librarian had raced into the cockpit the second May's voice came in over the loudspeaker to say she'd spotted something in the desert below.

At first, Skye was just  _so_  relieved for the chance to take a break from Fitz's long-winded ranting and raving over The Bus ("How the bloody hell does a team of vigilante treasure seekers get ahold of an airborne mobile base complete with cloaking technology that doesn't even exist yet??")

No way was she about to divulge all of Shield's secrets to a civilian, even if that civilian was Fitz, so the fast fifteen minute flight into the desert was just a fifteen minute montage of Fitz babbling furiously and incredulously while Skye sat parked in a chair—continuously rubbing her temples and restraining her fighter's urge to drop kick the man straight into the cargo bay.

May and The Bus' radar could've spotted a lonely plastic bag trundling across the dunes and Skye still would've jumped at the opportunity to check it out and escape Scottish-accented hell, but when May sent an image over to the monitor in the passenger area, an image that looked suspiciously like camels, the pair came running.

"Take us down," Skye said urgently, one hand tightly gripping the back of May's chair.

The director adjusted the throttle accordingly, and the slightest sensation of stomachs dropping hit Skye and Fitz as they descended from the air to have a better look at the sands below. It still wasn't close enough for them to look through the large cockpit window and be 100% sure they were seeing camels, and certainly not close enough for them to see who was riding the possible camels, but as it turned out, the view came to them.

When a tornado of sand exploded to life as they watched, no more questions needed to be asked.

"That's them!" Fitz yelled. "Jemma, Radcliffe, the mummy!"

"All the way down, May! Take us all the way down!" the urgency in Skye's voice rose.

They dropped altitude some more, for in the empty expanse of the desert May had the room and maneuverability to do so. The huge Boeing moved agilely under her control, and then they were level with the spiraling cyclone, seeing it twisting and writhing ahead of them. Even though May had no intention of touching them, Fitz's eyes glanced down at the dashboard and caught sight of the missile controls, then quickly interjected.

"Don't shoot! Jemma's somewhere in there," he said.

Skye looked on helplessly through the window as they followed the twister. It was clearly moving fast, faster than they were as the Pharaoh managed to keep ahead of them. What could they do? How could they possibly rescue Jemma from that? Her mind raced, formulating lots of half-baked plans all at once that died in the water before they even had a chance.

"Uh...people?" Fitz got Skye's and May's attention. He was seeing something, and he rather wished that he wasn't.

The whirlwind was swelling and growing, transforming from a thin tumbling spiral to a massive wall, like a catastrophic tsunami of sand rising up from the ground and threatening to swallow everything before it.

"...Oh, shit," Skye said quietly.

The cockpit grew dark as the sand wall rose higher and higher, towering above them and clouding over the sun.

"Strap in!" May ordered.

Fitz dove into the co-pilot's chair while Skye strapped herself into the cockpit's jumpseat, bracing for some sort of impact as the thick wall of sand was just seconds away from crashing over them.

It was just like getting pummeled by the wave of a tsunami, and The Bus rocked and shook violently as the sand overtook them. Then came the sound Skye was expecting yet dreading, the blaring of warning sirens accompanied by flashing red lights as the turbines sucked in a massive flood of sand and everything began to malfunction all at once. May fought and struggled with the controls, but the plane wouldn't listen. The slight sensation of stomachs dropping from earlier became the not-so-slight, hideously lurching sensation as The Bus fell, the ground rising up to meet them far too quickly.

May's expert piloting skills kept them relatively level despite the engines' protest, and before being attacked by the Pharaoh they had already gotten low enough to the ground that they didn't have the deadly plummet ahead of them that they could've had if they'd been attacked just minutes earlier.

It was still a horrendously rough crash landing, rattling the brains of the team as the plane violently met the floor of the desert. Fitz's eyes were fearfully squeezed shut, but Skye kept hers open, looking on during the crash as sand swirled and spiraled all around them. When The Bus had loudly skidded to a stop, the wall of sand cleared, moving behind them and continuing to carry its hostages onward to Djedefre's palace.

They'd gotten so close. Jemma had been right there in front of them. And just like he had at every other twist and turn, the mummy had pulled the proverbial rug right out from underneath them. They were  _so_  close.

May had her seatbelt off right then and there and was already out of her seat, standing up to lean over the cockpit dashboard and fiddle with various buttons and controls. Fitz was trying to get his senses back—if he were a cartoon character his head would be spinning around and around at this point and he'd be making a grab for it to make the madness stop. And Skye? Skye had nothing to add to the situation. All she could do was lean her head back, close her eyes, grit her teeth, and clench her fingers into tight fists.

* * *

"May, believe me, no one appreciates your sheer badassery more than I do, but you can't fix this plane singlehandedly," Skye pointed out, the slight color of agitation hiding under her words.

"I figured I'd use two hands," May coolly said.

Half an hour of May performing diagnostics, treading back and forth from the cockpit to the interior, checking over systems and then checking them again, was putting a strain on Skye. Djedefre was taking Jemma further and further away from them every minute, and if he reached his palace before they did, there was no telling how much time Simmons would have left.

"She might as well," Fitz grudgingly came down on the director's side, not thrilled to be stuck in this situation either. "We have no idea how quickly we can get Shield backup out here. Maybe this way is better."

He tried to keep optimism alive, but the hard truth was that their choices weren't between tortoise pace or hare pace, but really...tortoise pace and snail pace. For all intents and purposes, The Bus came out of the crash relatively unharmed. All the main systems were functional, the important bits and baubles hadn't been scratched, and the controls were alive and intact—there was just the pesky little detail of actually flying, which, lo and behold, seemed to be the one thing The Bus had given up on doing.

But as all systems were functional, so was the radar, and Skye heard its beeps from out in the passenger area May was currently giving the once-over to. Fitz, unfamiliar with the sheer magic and mystery of The Bus, frowned in confusion as his ears registered the sound too.

"...What's that mean?" he questioned.

"...It means something's coming right at us."

Skye turned on her heels and started to run through the length of the Boeing, with Fitz hurrying behind her. All the way at the other end of the plane, she got the cargo hold ramp open, and she and Fitz stepped out into the desert in time to see a truck kicking up a plume of sand towards the sky with each spin of the wheels as it drove right to the downed plane. Not knowing what to expect, Skye readied her fingers to grab one of her guns if she needed it, and she and Fitz just cautiously watched as the truck pulled up to the ramp and then stopped.

The engine wasn't cut, it just idled, letting the mighty rumble of the truck flood the air. With windows rightfully and smartly tinted, the two couldn't see who was driving until the door opened and he stepped out. The rare, so very rare smile on Mack's face was boyish and impish, like a willful little child with a mischievous scheme in mind.

"What?" he said, catching sight of Fitz and Skye's dumbfounded expressions. "You didn't think you were going to fight this mummy without me, did you?"


End file.
